


Dr. Hot Buns, M.D.

by LittleEvilIsa



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medical, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:31:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleEvilIsa/pseuds/LittleEvilIsa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern day AU. At Panem Memorial Hospital, overachieving Katniss Everdeen and charming Peeta Mellark compete to be the best cardiothoracic surgeon of the country.<br/>For Prompts in Panem round 6 "Peeta's Paint Box", day 5 "blue"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My never ending gratitude goes to **neophytehgfan** on Tumblr for pre-reading this, and to the amazing **titania522/ct522** for betaing this at light speed!  
>  If you think you recognize something from Grey's Anatomy, you do. I took the cases from the series, because I'm no doctor so I don't exactly know how that world works.
> 
> I don't own THG.
> 
> Now, on to reading!

[ ](http://it.tinypic.com?ref=15i0m0l)

 

 

**Chapter 1. Your face is so stupid, I want to ride it.**

 

If you happen to meet Peeta Mellark, don't let the man fool you.

He may have wavy hair as golden as wheat and eyes as blue as the sunny sky; he may have the perfectly crooked smile, created by Aphrodite herself to make women – and sometimes men – swoon; he may have a handsome face, with that cute dimple on his chin and that jaw carved in marble; he may be – I'm reporting what I've heard through the grapevine – quite skilled in the art of giving... relief to women; he may be loved by all the nurses because he always brings them home-made cookies and other baked goods; he may have the body of a Greek god, all – it seems – ripped muscles straining the blue material of his scrubs, to the point that nurses – and some doctors, too – call him “Doctor Hot Buns”, and not for his baked goods; he may always be helpful, charming, well-spoken, smart, incredibly good with kids. But I know better.

Peeta Mellark is a _nightmare_.

He is cocky, presumptuous, a womanizer, a know-it-all, but more than anything else, a thief.

It all started in med school.

Since the day my father almost died of cardiac arrest in front of me when I was eleven and was saved by a doctor coincidentally passing by, I strove to become the best cardiothoracic surgeon that has ever been, always pushing myself over my limit to be the best in every activity, academic or not. I aced high school. I was captain of the track team, vice-captain of the cheerleaders, and president of the student council. I was valedictorian. I was accepted in every college I applied to, choosing to stay in Pennsylvania to be closer to family. I graduated from PSU with a GPA of 3.8, first of my class. I got into University of Washington in the blink of an eye. I thought UW would have been a piece of cake.

You can imagine how I felt when, for the entirety of the first week, this little asshat that always arrived five minutes late to every class would beat me at everything. And when, out of anger more than anything else, I asked him how he knew all those things, he just shrugged and answered me, “I have a photographic memory.” And when I told him that I would be the best once again because I had a GPA of 3.8 from PSU, he replied, “Nice! I graduated from Johns Hopkins with a GPA of 3.9.”

From that day, I swore that I would have destroyed him. No parties, no drinking, no boys for me. Only studying. Not that there had been that much of those other things anyway, but still – I mean, I had a boyfriend in high school, Gale, but we broke up when he realized that to me school was more important than him. And in the meantime, Mellark went to parties, drank, fucked all the girls in our class – and I think a couple of teachers, too – and the only thing he had to do apparently was read a text book three or four times and smile that ridiculous crooked smile of his.

Our results were pretty much the same all the time, to the point that I was pretty vocal about my hatred for the man.

Neither of us was too superior to prank the other. He hanged an anatomical model outside my dorm room, and I peed my pants a little. I put food coloring in his bottle of body wash, so that he looked like a Smurf for two days. He gave me a jewelry box saying that it was a way to apologize and end our dispute, when it actually was full of crickets that invaded my car. I gave him a concussion – which actually wasn't really what I wanted to do; let's just say that the classic bucket of water over the door can go horribly wrong.

We became famous on campus for our rivalry.

I thought that after med school I would finally be free from Mellark. Then I found out we both were matched for the residency at Panem Memorial Hospital, in DC.

You may think that it's normal to be a bit competitive during the first years as a resident, when you don't know exactly what you want to specialize in. The problem is, we both knew what we wanted our role at PMH to be: the pupil of Dr. Haymitch Abernathy, Chief surgeon of the Department of Cardiothoracic Surgery. The man is a god. People come from all over the States to have him as a doctor. All residents would kill to have him as a mentor.

And it started all over again.

I got stuck in the elevator with a patient with a serious gunshot wound to his chest and when the man's blood pressure suddenly dropped drastically, I had to open him and do an emergency pericardiotomy and aortic clamping. Not even a month later, Mellark got to scrub in in _my_ big surgery because he remembered an article he had read years before that helped him realize that great pain with no apparent cause could be a symptom of a subarachnoid hemorrhage.

I got to assist Dr. Abernathy in a risky operation to get rid of a dangerous coronary aneurysm on a man that the year prior had had myocardial infarction. Mellark was the miracle man that helped a little boy out of the depression which had cause him to reject the first heart he had been donated.

I found out there was an experimental method to do a bypass on a man allergic to anesthesia when he was awake, thanks to an upper thoracic epidural. Mellark assisted in a cardiac autotransplantation.

I operated in laparoscopy. Mellark put the heart back in the chest of a baby who was born with extrathoracic heart.

Day after day, year after year, me and Mellark fought tooth and nail to get into Dr. Abernathy's good graces, the OR being our preferred battlefield. There is no one in the hospital that doesn't know about this and isn't on the side of one of us. And, since Mellark is oh so loved by everyone here, I don't have many supporters. The fact that a scowl is my main facial expression may play a part in this situation.

But who cares what a bunch of easily played doctors think about me? I am one of the best surgeons at PMH, which is the only thing that matters to me. And I'm friend with Madge Undersee, a fellow intern. Her father is a senator, so, you know, I have some connections.

But today, after almost eight years of figuratively fighting to the death, everything will change. Abernathy has realized that he is getting old, and that he can't keep up with all the duties of a chief and all his patients, so he decided to appoint an assistant between the fourth year residents. Which basically means I'm a step away from achieving the goal of a lifetime. The only obstacle in my way is Mellark.

The interns are all impatiently waiting in front of the elevator for Abernathy's turn to start. Everytime the elevator dings, everyone tenses up. I think we scared pretty much everyone that stepped out of there.

People are nervous, pacing around and biting their nails. If I gave a damn about them, I'd think it cute. They all know that their odds are close to none when compared to Mellark's and mine. We are the only two residents Abernathy wants in his OR lately, since our success rates are the highest. Cato Martins screwed up seven times in a row, and he was lucky that Tresh Montgomery – whose residency is in plastic surgery, so I'm sure you can understand the problem here – stepped in the last time before he could kill that poor lady. And Glimmer Donovan cheated on Dr. Gloss Grover, the anesthetist that usually works with Abernathy, with his sister, it seems, so she's not welcome in the OR at all.

“The job is practically mine, Mellark.” I tell him between sips of my morning coffee.

“Don't be so sure about it, Everdeen.”

“Oh, I am so sure about it that I prepared a little number for you.”

He snorts. “We'll see.” He scratches his five o'clock shadow, and my eyes inadvertently zero in on a little bruise under his jaw that looks suspiciously like a hickey. It irritates me to no end. What other naive girl did he fuck this time?

The ding of the elevator distracts me from my intention to vocally criticize Mellark's lifestyle.

Way too many heads turn towards Abernathy as he steps out, and he freezes when he see all the residents. He hasn't had his morning coffee yet, I can see it from the lack of his usual sarcastic mug.

Abernathy sighs. “What the hell do you want so early in the morning?”

“You said you would appoint your new assistant today, sir.” says Marvel Abbots.

“And you ambush me before I even have the chance to put my scrubs on?” grumbles the doctor. God, he is impossible in the morning. Since none of us move, Abernathy sighs once again, waving his hand. “Fine. Okay. I wanted to do it in a more official way, but you beasts can't wait. Everdeen.” He points his finger at me. “You're my new assistant. There. Now, out of my way.” That said, he shoves past our group towards his office, still grumbling.

I pump my fist in the air, barely containing my winning smile. I catch Mellark trying to sneak away unnoticed, and I can't pass up the opportunity to brag about my victory. “Where are you going, Mellark? I've got something to show you!”

He groans, his head falling backward. He then turns around, his eyebrows raised in unamused question.

I'm really proud of the little dance I assembled for this. I even put a pretend ass-slapping in it. My cheerleading past came really in hand with the dance moves and the song. I take a deep breath and...

“Hey, listen!/ I'm Katniss Everdeen,/ the best surgeon that has ever been./ You know, you can try to be like me,/ but I'm so far you can't even see me./ I'm perfect, man. I don't have a glitch./ And you, Mellark, you're just my bitch./ You can't win, you're just too tired./ 'Cause I'm Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

As I raise my hands in the final pose, Johanna Mason, the Chief Resident, passes by. She mimics licking her middle fingers and touching my ass with them, making a 'psss' sound.

“Um... Thanks, Dr. Mason?” I say when I'm over my initial surprise.

“Don't mention it, Everdeen.” the woman answers as she keeps going on her way.

Mellark has both his hands clasped in front of his face, his index fingers tapping against his mouth. “Charming.” he says. “Did you pay Mason to do that?”

“Honestly, I didn't even know she was there.”

Mellark takes a deep breath and releases it in a short burst. “Yeah, well. Congratulation. You deserved it.” he says, and then walks away.

I'm surprised by this exchange. I wanted Mellark to feel annoyed – and a just a little bit humiliated – by my bragging. But there was no sarcasm or venom in his voice. That's not the reaction I hoped for.

“Having fun, Dr. Everdeen?” I hear suddenly from behind me.

Shit.

I slowly turn around, already in a cold sweat, and here he is, Dr. Plutarch Heavensbee, Chief of Surgery here at PMH. Now I understand why Mellark walked away without a protest. He saw Heavensbee. That asshole. “Chief! Sir. Good morning.” I stutter.

“You know, Everdeen.” he says with a cold smile. “If this were a talent show, I'd be impressed. But it isn't. Don't you have your rounds to do?”

“Yeah. Yes, sir. Going right now.” I run away when I still have the chance.

***

Abernathy can be a pain in the ass, but God if he is the best mentor I could ever ask for. I scrubbed in in all his surgeries so far, and he showed me so many fascinating techniques that he hadn't before. He said that these are the perks of being his assistant. I find it kind of unfair, he could have taught those to every intern that isn't his assistant, too. I could have learned all these things years ago!

Downside: this can be a very tiring job. I'm the one doing all the post op, and it often happens that I have to do a double shift to cover Abernathy when he has to be at board meetings, which has already happened several times this month alone. Around the hospital there's the joke they're preparing a rebellion.

Yesterday was one of those days. We finally got the new heart for the younger of the two siblings that came at different times during this past six month and were both diagnosed with large cardiomyopathy. We solved the girl's problem with a pacemaker, but her little brother needed a heart transplant. After that, Abernathy disappeared somewhere with Chief Heavensbee, and I was left, tired as ever, to do his round.

After that I had eight hours before my day started, and I couldn't give up on a hot bath and some sleep in my own bed. I fell asleep in the bathtub, and just dragged myself to the bedroom when I woke, passing out the moment my head hit the pillow.

That is how I forgot to charge my damn pager. I'm waiting for the elevator and deciding if the pager can survive the round or if I should recharge it before it start, when I hear an heavy thread approaching.

"Morning, Katniss." he says.

"Mellark.” I glare at my pager, too irritated with this piece of crap of technology to spare him a glance.

“What did it do to you?”

“What?”

“Your pager.” He points to it. “What did it do to get the glare?”

“Oh. Nothing. Almost dead.”

“You better recharge it, then.”

“Yeah.” I eye him suspiciously. What the hell does he want from me? We don't talk if not to insult each other. But he has a friendly expression on, and doesn't seem willing to say anything bad.

The elevator's door opens to let us in. Mellark gestures for me to get in first.

“So.” he starts as he pushes the button for the fourth floor, where the interns' locker room is. “That dance last month. It was good. When did you learn that?”

What is he getting at with this sudden interest? “I was a cheerleader in high school.”

His eyes widens. “Really?”

My eyes roll to the back of my head of their own volition. “What is wrong with that?”

“Oh, nothing. Just... I'd have never pegged you for a cheerleader kind of girl.”

And what's that supposed to mean? I fold my arms in front of me. “And what kind of girl would you peg me for?”

“Well, the smart, not-so-shy girl that always gets shit done.” He smiles a little, the left corner of his mouth lifting more than the right. “Probably in the student council.”

I eye him before turning my face in front of me. “I was president.” I announce with pride. “And just so you know, I was vice-captain of the cheerleader and captain of the track team.”

“Sweet! I was vice-president. But I was captain of both the wrestling team and the debate team.” The enthusiasm in his voice is way too suspicious to let it slide again. There must me something behind all this flattering bullshit.

I sharply turn to him. “What do you want, Mellark?”

His smile holds up for a second, then starts waver. Then he sighs, his head falling forward. “Okay. Yeah, you got me.” Ah, there it is, the hidden agenda. “Listen, now that you're Abernathy's assistant, you get to scrub in with him every time. And I doubt that from next year I will ever see his OR ever again...”

“So?”

“So, you know that next week we are going to separate the Palmer twins.” Of course I know it. Tammy and Cece Palmer are newborn conjoined twins attached at the head. It's a tricky operation, and a long one at that, made even more problematic by Tammy's heart doing more work than Cece's. The baby girls need to be separated as soon as possible. But why is he telling me this? “I'm on Crane's team, which is awesome because it means I will drilling holes in the skull for the separation.”

Well, it is kinda awesome. But I still don't understand why this should matter to me. “Again. So?”

“Switch places with me.”

I don't think I understand. Is he really giving me one of the most important surgeries this hospital has ever seen? In exchange for what, exactly?

“You can have the Palmers, and I'll have one last major operation with Abernathy.”

Oh, here is the catch. He wants to rob me of yet one more surgery, the little shit. Hell to the no. I feel the anger mount rapidly in me. Barely containing my venom, I hiss, “No.” The elevator gets to the fourth floor in that moment, and I stomps out of it, outraged.

“C'mon, Katniss!” says Mellark, following me along the hallways.

“It's Dr. Everdeen to you.” I spit out.

“Please! I will never get a chance at doing something with Abernathy! I just want a last chance!”

I stop and turn to him. “By stealing another surgery from me?” I seethe. “I don't give a damn about Crane and his fancy operations. I worked my ass all my life to get someone like Abernathy to be my mentor, and I won't let you take that away from me.”

Mellark rubs his forehead. “I just want to do it a last time.” he says, his tone pleading. “I really, really want to.”

“Well, sucks to be you.” With that, I walk to the locker room, ready to expend my pent up anger walking around the ward, instead of on his face.

***

I'm almost done with my round when Lavinia, one of the few nurses that doesn't hate me, comes running in the room.

“Dr. Everdeen, Dr. Abernathy is looking for you!” the redhead says almost out of breath.

“What happened?”

“It's about the siblings suffering from cardiomyopathy. The girl was here with their parents visiting the boy when she suddenly passed out. She's in surgery right now.”

I sprint out of the room without even apologize to the elder Mrs. Sae, who I was seeing at that moment. “Why didn't you page me?” I ask to Lavinia who is running through the hallways with me.

“We tried, but we couldn't!”

I reach for the pager hanging around my neck, and the piece of crap is... dead.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

“Which OR?”

“Four!”

Once in the gallery, I see Abernathy is already working on the girl – from here, I think I see him inserting an LVAD, which means that her pacemaker failed. Helping Abernathy is someone that I could recognize everywhere, especially because of that ridiculous orange scrub cap. Mellark.

I switch on the intercom. “I'm here, Dr. Abernathy. What do you need me to do?”

Abernathy doesn't even lift his eyes to look at me. “I don't need you, Everdeen. Mellark is doing just fine.”

“But, sir!” I try to protest. The girl is my patient! I followed her and her brother since day one. He can't leave me out of the OR if one of them needs surgery again.

“I said I don't need you, Everdeen. Now, out of the gallery.” He casts me a glance so full of disappointment that every protest dies on my tongue, and I leave the gallery in shame.

This is all Mellark's fault. Of course it is. If he hadn't distracted me in the elevator, I would have remembered to recharge my pager before doing my round. Most likely, he was the one insisting to do the surgery when Abernathy couldn't reach me. And now that asshole was operating on _my_ patient. Again.

I attack Mellark as soon as he is out of the OR, after the surgery. He wasn't expecting me to be there, so I take him by surprise enough to shove him against the wall. “You asshole! You stole my surgery!”

“I didn't steal anything.” Mellark hisses, pushing away my hand that is still pressing on his chest.

“Yes, you did! That was my patient in there! Just because you were here sooner than me, it doesn't mean you can have my case!”

For the first time in eight years I've been knowing him, I see a sneer take over Mellark's face. “Well, sucks to be you.” he says, throwing back at me the words I told him earlier today.

I don't know what it is exactly that I feel. Is it disbelief? Hurt? What I'm sure about is that right after that, I feel angry. So much angrier than before. How dare he? Fucking asshole! “You-”

“Everdeen.” The stern voice of Dr. Abernathy interrupts me. He walks briskly past us. “My office. Now.”

Me and Mellark look at each other in anger for a long second, our breath labored, then I follow my mentor – at least, I hope he still is.

When we are in the office, Abernathy points to one of the chairs in front of his desk, implying that he wants me to sit. He goes to the liquor cabinet in the left corner of the room, pours himself half a glass of a brown liquid that looks like bourbon. I don't think he should drink during his shift, but I don't dare point it out. I sit silently as he drains the glass.

“What was that outside of my OR, Everdeen?” the doctor asks.

I square my shoulders, my face tense. “You can't let Mellark take my patients, sir. He doesn't deserve it.”

Abernathy turns around, disbelief painted all over his face. “I'm sorry?”

“I've dedicated my life so far to becoming the best surgeon possible, and since med school, all he has been doing is ruining things for me. I worked harder and harder, I gave everything up to be better than him. To prove that hard work has to be praised. But he kept ruining things. He never did much better than me, he never worked as much as me, yet he got so many things that were rightly mine. I have nothing in my life but this work, while he is going around screwing every woman he finds on his way, and then he just waltzes into the OR and steals my surgery and–”

“I'll stop you now, Everdeen, before you embarrass yourself even more.” He puts both his hands flat on his desk. “He didn't steal anything from you. He just happen to be around when the girl passed out. And if you want to know it, he told the nurse to page you first.”

I'm shocked by this news. He wanted to page me? But he was right there! He could have simply taken control of the situation and saved the day. Well, I guess he actually did. But, why try to reach me first?

Abernathy keeps speaking. “Since you were nowhere to be found, I told Mellark to scrub in. And I did it because he was there. So, if there is someone who doesn't deserve the case, that is you. In fact, you're off the case, Everdeen.”

“What? You ca–”

“Shut up, Everdeen. I'm not done.” He waits a second for me to shut my mouth. “I don't really like you as a person, because, let's face it, you can be a real pain in my ass. But I respect you as a doctor. You are one of the most brilliant mind in these godforsaken place. I think you have the potential to become one of the best cardiothoracic surgeons of the country. And I sort of like to be your mentor. I see something of me in you, the desire to be the best, to save the unsaveable. So I'm gonna say it in a very open manner. I don't give a shit about you. I don't care about your personal life. Or Mellark's personal life, for that matter. Because once you get into this hospital, into my OR, your personal life doesn't exist. I'm really fed up with this drama bullshit, thanks to Donovan. So, I don't fucking care if Mellark has been screwing every woman in this hospital, hell, in the entire country, except for you. You talk about this between the two of you, outside of here. And be glad I was the one stopping you and not the Chief, or you would have gotten a disciplinary action.”

I'm mortified by the implication that I might be jealous of Mellark's escapades, so I almost miss the last part. “You're not giving me one?” I can't believe I'm getting away with this situation without any serious repercussion other than being cut out of a case. “Am I... am I still you assistant, sir?”

Abernathy sighs deeply and sits at his desk, rubbing his temple. “You are. But just because you don't chit-chat in the OR. I hate when people do that.”

“Thank you, sir.” I whisper.

“Yeah, yeah. But you won't be so lucky next time. You really disappointed me today. You did a rookie mistake, and assaulted a co-worker on top of it. Charge your fucking pager. And if I see you even glare in Mellark's direction, I will take action. Are we clear?”

I nod.

“Good. Get out of here.”

I leave his office at light speed.

***

These have been three very long weeks.

Me and Mellark have been avoiding each other the whole time. I stayed in Cardio, he went whenever he had to. When our paths crossed, we would simply walk straight past each other, as if the other wasn't even there. After eight years of fighting, this is a very drastic change that no one has missed.

Nobody seems to know about the incident outside of OR four, which means Mellark didn't tell anybody. Madge tried asking me what happened between us, but there's no way in hell I'm talking about my breakdown.

Abernathy hasn't brought it up again, and I really appreciate it, even if he probably does it for his own peace of mind. He is still teaching me new stuff, so I don't think he is still that mad at me. At least I hope.

But no matter how long one tries to avoid a confrontation, there are things that are just destined to happen.

It is the only reason I can think about for me and Mellark being in the same OR today, operating the same patient. The man was in a car accident. He wasn't wearing a seat belt, so he flew out of the windshield, hitting his head and causing internal bleeding located around the area of the superior vena cava. So I'm fixing the vein with Abernathy, while Mellark is helping Dr. Crane containing the intracranial hemorrhage.

It was one of the most quiet operations I've ever done. Crane tried to say something that wasn't an instruction to part of the medical equipe, but he didn't have much success.

Now, as we get rid of the bloody scrubs, the patient stable and wheeled out towards ICU, Crane tries again to start a conversation.

“So, Mellark, Everdeen.” he says leaning against a sink. “Your fifth year is around the corner. Do you know what you would like to specialize in? Everdeen, we would make good use of those pretty hands of your in Neuro.” A sickening smile spreads over his lips, and I have a feeling that his sentence has a double entendre. And this entendre doesn't seem to be lost on Mellark and Abernathy, because both men glare at Crane menacingly.

I try to dissipate the tension. “I'm sorry, I've always wanted to be a cardiac surgeon.”

“You heard the lady, Crane” Abernathy intervenes. “Her hands belong to my hearts. So, step back.” I'm sure he said it as a warning, but Crane laughs it off.

“It's a pity. What about you, Mellark? You were so good with the Palmer twins.”

Mellark hesitates for a moment. “Um... I was thinking about Pediatrics.”

I freeze. What did he just say?

“Really?” Abernathy asks him, he too surprised. But surely not as much as me.

“Yeah. I've been spending a lot of time there with Dr. Cresta in this last year, and I really like it. Those kids are amazing. Just being able to help them have a chance to have a full life is... I don't know, it's... exhilarating. Plus, Dr. Cresta is just waiting for someone to work with her on her pro bono project for the kids in Africa who don't have access to proper medical treatments, and I would die to be a part of that.”

I can't believe it. Is he for real? I look at the serious look on his face, that spark in his eyes that is so familiar yet so new. Is he really thinking about leaving Cardio? No! He can't do that! He wanted to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. He was my only real rival all this time, and now he just... He can't do that!

I dispose of my scrubs as I walk to the door. “Dr. Mellark?” I call behind me, only turning around when he doesn't answer me. “A word? In private?”

He is surprised. Probably because I'm finally talking to him again more than because I asked. So he just nods and follow me.

Over his shoulder, I can see Abernathy glaring at me and mouthing, “Disciplinary action.”

I shake my head to indicate that I won't do anything bad. Or at least I don't think I will.

Mellark follows me to the first on-call room I find. He doesn't speak while I open the door and motion for him to enter.

“Okay, Mellark.” I say, closing the door behind me. I cross my arms in front of me. “What the fuck was that story?”

“What story?” he asks.

“The one about you leaving Cardio for Pediatrics.”

The confusion leaves his face, and he suddenly looks so tired. “Why do you care? How does it even have anything to do with you?”

“It does!” I almost shout. “You can't leave Cardio like that! You always wanted to be here! You were the only competition I had all these years. You were a pain in my ass for _eight_ _fucking years_! And now what? Just because you're not Abernathy's assistant, you just... give up on it?”

“Okay, first of all, I'm not giving up. I'm choosing something else. Something that can give me joy.” I scoff. _Bullshit_. Mellark keeps talking. “Secondly, why do you even care? If I was such a nuisance to you, shouldn't you be happy to get rid of me?”

I throw my hands up. “Not like this! I want to win this fair and square. You don't get to walk away from it. I want to prove that I'm better than a moron that spends his life partying and screwing women left and right.”

“I don't understand what my personal life has to do with this.”

“It has _everything_ to do with this!”

“How?!”

“I gave up on everything to be better than you! I gave up on fun, friends... boyfriends! I haven't seen a naked man for recreational purposes in eight years! You know how fucking long that is? I had to give up on everything, but you... not you. You still could do whatever you wanted because you have that photographic memory of yours. And because, if you ever had a problem, you were able to get out of it with just a compliment and a flash of that stupidly gorgeous smile of yours!”

He is silent for a long moment, watching me as I try to rein in my anger, my chest heaving with deep breaths. Then a smaller version of that smile blooms on his face. “You think I have a stupidly gorgeous smile?”

I blush. I don't blush. I'm a strong, confident, independent woman and, _goddammit_ , I don't blush. But then how else can I explain how hot my face feels right now? “That is not the point!” I sputter, trying to change the subject.

His smile dies all together, and suddenly he is invading my personal space. “Then, what is your point? Because I. Don't. Fucking. Get it.”

“My point is...” His face is so close to mine that I can feel his harsh breathing fanning over my mouth and nose. He has freckles. Over the ridge of his nose. How didn't I notice this before? “My point is...” His nostrils flares with every exhale. His eyes are a darker shade of blue than usual, his pupils dilating rapidly. His jaw clench once, twice. His lips are...

I'm not sure how it happens, but next thing I know, my mouth crashes against his, my hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair. He tastes like antiseptic, but I don't find it strange, considering we are in a hospital. His body, for the first time so close, is firm and hard against mine, and I barely resist the urge to run my hands all over him. I snap out of it when I feel his hands grab my hips.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

I pull away from him, eyes wide, my hands flying over my mouth. He looks as shocked as me. But there is a somewhat pretty shade of red on his cheek. And his lips look so kissable...

What the hell am I thinking? And what the hell did I just do?

I kissed Mellark. I kissed him. Oh, no. No, no, no, no. This is so wrong! How did it even cross my mind to kiss him? This is Mellark! The man I've been hating for eight, long years. That has been ruining my life since the first day we met. Oh, God. What have I done? I have to get out of here. Right now!

I turn around and open the door, but with a speed that I didn't know he possessed, Mellark shoves it closed again forcefully.

“You don't get to kiss me and then walk away, Everdeen.” he growls in my ear. The sound is enough to rouse goosebumps all over my neck. Slowly, one of his hands reaches the bun I put my braid in before surgery and removes the bobby pins keeping it in place.

“What do you want from me, Mellark?” I say breathlessly.

“I want you to turn around.”

I do as I'm told, slowly, very slowly, and he locks the door.

I look up at his eyes. His pupils are so dilated that I can see only a tiny blue circle around them. Everything else is fire. Burning so bright that it ignite something deep down inside me.

His left hand cups my cheek as his thumb slides over my features. The dark eyebrow, the high cheekbone, the tender lips. His touch is so light that it tickles. I want to close my eyes, looking at him almost too much to endure, but I can't. I'm hypnotized by that thing I see flashing in his eyes as they follow his wandering thumb.

With much more grace than I used, he brings my face closer, lightly cocks his head sideways, and kisses me. It starts as a light brush, almost non existent, but soon intensifies. I can't help the moan that escapes from me when his tongue swipes over my lips, asking for entry.

I let my tongue twirl around his when it invades my mouth. He growls. I grab his biceps.

He uses his body to press me back against the door.

His hands start roaming. They move slowly over my shoulders and sides, stopping only for a second to lightly brush the undersides of my breasts, eliciting a moan from me.

We break the kiss to catch our breath. I don't know what he sees in my eyes as he looks into them for a long moment, but when he resumes our make out session, it is with a renewed intensity and much more passion.

His mouth moves from mine to the sensitive skin of my neck, his stubble probably leaving a sign on my cheek. His hands grab my breasts and knead them with vigor. I don't think it is possible, but it feels so good even over my clothes. But it's not enough.

I tug at his shirt, making him understand that I want it off. He tears himself away from me just long enough to get the shirt over his head and...

Oh, my God.

I bite my bottom lip as my eyes roams over him. Is he even real? His upper body is all taunt muscles flexing as his arms go back to his sides. His shoulders are broad and firm, and his abs, a perfect six pack, quiver with his accelerated breathing. A sprinkle of blond hair adorns his pecs, while a slightly darker trail starts at his belly button and disappears under his trousers. And his oblique lateral abdominal muscles... I've always found that particular set of muscles attractive, but his are downright sexy.

Mellark chuckles a little, distracting me from my examination. “Your turn.” he says seductively, flashing me that stupid smile.

What the hell is happening? How did we get from fighting to stripping in front of each other? And how can I let this happen? I always pitied those women that fell for Mellark's charm, and now it's me that can't wait to get out of her clothes.

My shirt couldn't fly to the floor faster. In the spur of the moment, I decide to take off my trousers, too. I let them fall and step out of them after I've toed my sneakers and socks off, exposing my mismatched underwear and my half naked body.

Mellark moans. “I knew it.” He doesn't waste much time before he reattaches his lips to my skin. I think he may have left a hickey at the base of my neck.

My hands cling to his back, fingers digging in the hard flesh there.

His kisses move slowly downwards, lips never leaving my skin in their descent. They skim over my clavicles, bury themselves in the valley between my breasts, brush along the underside of my left breast and the left side to the hip, that he nibbles lightly. He leaves a trail of kisses from hip to hip following the rim of my underwear, coming back to let his tongue dip into my belly button.

His hands caress my legs from ankles to hips, stopping to squeeze my thighs. I feel his thumbs hooking around the side of my underwear and I'm startled to feel them slide down my legs.

“What are you doing?” I ask wide-eyed as I look at him kneeling in front of me.

He looks up, and just this sight makes me quiver. “Let me.”

I nod, unable to speak.

When my underwear are gone, Mellark put my right leg over his shoulder and takes a good look at me. “So pretty.” he says, licking his lips. He sniffs, obviously catching the scent of the arousal that have been seeping out of me under his kisses. “And so good.” he moans.

His tongue swipes slowly over my folds and then presses lightly over my clit, before his lips close around it and he sucks lightly on it.

No one has ever gone down on me. Gale had offered to once, but I refused, more than a little grossed out at the idea of his mouth anywhere near my vagina. But now that Mellark's mouth is giving me the most intense pleasure I've ever felt in my life, I wonder why I didn't try this sooner.

He moves his tongue in and out of me, a warm, soft sensation so different from regular sex. It feels so good that I almost forget we are in a hospital. There're people working just outside this door. What would they think if they found us in this very compromising position? Quiet. I must keep quiet. But I can't stop a moan when his thumb starts making circles over my clit in time with his tongue.

“Oh, God.” I stutter.

Mellark snorts. It should probably annoy me, but the vibration feels too good against me. He leans his head back a little and looks up at me. “I usually go with Peeta, but God is fine, too.”

“Ugh. Shut up. Put your mouth to better use.” I say, pulling his head back between my legs.

He laughs again, and I have to bite my bottom lip not to cry out.

His mouth and hand have switched place. Now his lips are closed around my clit, the tip of his tongue sometimes gracing it, while first one, then two thick fingers pump into me rhythmically.

My hands are restless as Mellark – no, Peeta... as Peeta works on me. One grabs a hold of his head, trying to pull him even closer. I probably pull too hard at his hair, though, because he moans. But I don't really care, if this feeling is the result. My other hand grabs my breast over the bra, kneading it like Peeta had done earlier. It doesn't feel the same, but it's still something.

Things change when the movement of his fingers inside me alters from in and out to a come hither gesture. Those talented, surgeon's fingers. He must be touching the perfect spot, because not so long after that I can feel the pleasure coil rapidly inside me, mounting higher and higher as he sucks harder on my clit.

My orgasm hits me stronger than I expected it to. My legs shake furiously, but Peeta's hands keep me upright as I slowly come down from my high.

My head hits the door behind me. “The rumors were true, eh?”

“What rumors?” Peeta asks getting up.

“Those about you being a loyal and grateful patron at the Y diner.”

His hand wiping my arousal from his mouth and chin covers his laugh. “This is the first time I hear it worded that way.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn't the captain of the debate team.” I tease him.

“Yeah, I've been blessed with a silver tongue.” He wiggles his eyebrows and smirks, proud of his pun.

I roll my eyes. “God, I hate you so much.” I say, shoving him away.

Peeta chuckles and grabs my hips, pulling me flush against him as he walks backwards. “Yeah, yeah. Me, too.” But the playful spark in his eyes doesn't make it sound that real. Neither does his erection, pressed against my abdomen, hard and long.

When the back of his knees touch the bed, Peeta sit down and pulls me between his open legs. He looks me up and down, his eyes lingering on random spots. His stare is enough to make my inner walls pulse again.

He suddenly clears his throat, looking up at my face. “Um, this is gonna be awkward.” He glances down. “Do you, um... Do you have a condom with you.”

Really? Is he really asking me if I would take a prophylactic with me during surgery? And where does he think I would put it? “Do you think I keep condoms in my bra?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, right. Um, I don't have one on me. But I really, really...” His eyes slide slowly over me, his thumbs drawing circles over my hips.

I get what he wants to say. Just looking at him shirtless and seated on this bed makes me want to do things to him that I didn't know I would ever want to. Like licking his abs throughout, or sucking on his nipples. “It's okay. We can do it without a condom.” I say, apparently unable to resist my hormones even though my head is telling me it is not a really good idea.

Peeta's eyes widens. “Are you sure about it?” he asks. “I want you to feel safe, you know?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, um... I've been tested last month and I'm clean. I haven't had sex since then.”

I realize just now what Peeta was concerned about, and God if it is awkward. I mean, it's not every day that I discuss about possible STDs with my arch-nemesis. But it's not every day that I let him make me come using only his mouth and fingers either. So, I have to suck it up. We are adults, doctors, for God's sake. And we want to have sex. With each other, apparently.

“Um.. I've been tested sometimes last year. But you know that I've... not been... active for a long time.”

“So I'll just... pull it out.”

“Yeah.” I swallow. “I-I'm on the pill, just so you know.”

Peeta looks confused. “Really? But you said you haven't had sex in eight years.”

“Not a good reason to get off the pill. Now shut up so we can get this started.”

Peeta grins seductively. “As you wish.” He pulls me down to sit on his lap and his lips crash over mine.

Never breaking the kiss, I move to straddle him, his covered erection now directly where I want it. I grind down on him, rotating my hips with purpose. His hands grab my ass and help me move over him.

A shiver goes through his body and he has to take a break. “Oh, God.”

I lick the milky-white skin of his neck and suck on his lobe. “No, Katniss.”

He grabs my thighs and, with a grunt, flips us over the bed so now I'm under him.

Wordlessly, I help him move his trousers and boxer just enough to be out of the way. Then my hands grab a hold of his ass. The nurses were right. These are some hot buns indeed.

Peeta fills me up in a fast stroke. It's been so long since the last time that it burns a little, and I have to wait a second to get used to the feeling of him inside me. But every possible discomfort is wiped away as he starts thrusting, sharp, deep slaps that make me slide up over the bed, slow, sensual caresses that bring me back to him.

To quiet my moans, I latch my mouth at his shoulder, biting down. Peeta grunts into my ear and his thrusts grow in intensity and speed.

I feel myself getting closer to the edge for a second time rapidly, Peeta's pelvic bone somehow pushing on my clit with every thrust in. I claw at his back, biting my lip to stifle my moans, growing in pitch the closer I get to the peak.

I come suddenly, breathing out his name, the final 'a' sounding like a long, satisfied sigh.

I whimper when he pulls out of me, but I can't really protest as I watch for the first time his expression when he comes. The slaked jaw, the slightly scrunched brow, the closed eyes. He is like a piece of art.

Peeta rolls to the side and we lay here, side to side, watching the ceiling as we take our breath.

“Whoa.” I says after a while.

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “Will you tell me now why are you mad at me?”

I'm confused by the sudden change of topic. “What?”

“I know you're not really mad because you're not winning this thing the way you wanted. So why are you mad?”

I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He is looking at me with a serious face that I've seen only in the OR before. The intensity in his eyes is so strong that I can barely look at him.

But he is right. I'm not mad about not winning. There is something else that is disturbing me. It takes me a while to realize what it actually is.

“I know what you can and can't do, Mellark. You're so good at what you do. And... when you said you were leaving Cardio for Pediatrics... It felt like you were running away, giving up on something you are really good at. And it made me think that, if someone as good as you gave up, what was keeping me from give up, too?”

“That's bullshit.”

Okay, I wasn't expecting this reaction. “I'm sorry?”

“That's bullshit.” he repeats, turning on his side and propping his head on his hand. “There's nothing in this world that could make you give up on Cardio. It is your life mission. For me it's different.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't want to become a cardiothoracic surgeon. It was my mother's idea. And I couldn't actually tell her no, because... well, she's not the easiest person to deal with. But I got to a point where... I simply don't care about it anymore. I found something that I am passionate about, and I want to do this. So, I'm not really running away.”

These were details about Peeta's life that I never knew. Probably would never have if it hadn't been for this completely unexpected occurrence between us. I highly doubt I would have ever asked him about it.

He suddenly smiles. “Hey, you know something?”

Yet again another change of topic. Was he always like this? “What?”

“You called me by name when you came.” He bites his lip as he leans down towards me, visibly satisfied with himself.

I groan and shove him. “Shut up, Mellark!”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, finally, FINALLY! The new chapter is up! I'm so sorry you had to wait all this time. I hope you're gonna like the new adventure of our sexy doctor.  
> Thanks to spcecadet on tumblr for pre-reading and betaing this.  
> All mistakes are mine.  
> I don't own THG or any of its characters.

[ ](http://it.tinypic.com?ref=15i0m0l)

 

**Chapter 2. Why bringing your fuck buddy to your ex's wedding is a really bad idea**

 

  
I move wearily through the Pediatric ward, careful not to meet anyone's eyes while looking around to find someone to save me.

I hate it here. It's not because I don't like to see sick kids. I'm a doctor, I'm used to sick people. I just don't know what to do around kids. I'm awkward and uncomfortable around them, so I try my best to stay the hell away from kids. I come to this part of the hospital only if strictly necessary. Meaning, if I can’t get in contact with the doctors working here. Like in this case.

Last Wednesday, a girl with a severe mitral stenosis arrived at PMH. After some important surgeries I have been doing by myself - even though under his watchful eye - Abernathy has decided I’m ready to fly solo. I think I was ready last year, but I can’t exactly protest about that.

The last few days, I’ve been studying the case very carefully. It’s a tricky surgery, the girl needs a prosthetic valve and it won’t be easy to perform it. But I’m positive I can do it. Just, I’m not sure how much this girl can take. I don't really like Dr. Titus, the pediatric surgeon that is supposed to help me with the case. He is very irritating, unprofessional, and, if you ask me, quite unprepared. Whatever he does, he always messes up royally. I have no idea how he made it through med school, honestly. So, this morning I asked Dr. Cresta, the Chief surgeon of Pediatric Surgery, for a consult. Which hasn’t come, yet. That’s why I’m here.

I feel really relieved when I spot a very familiar red ponytail at the nurses’ desk.

“Lavinia, have you seen Dr. Cresta?” I ask the nurse while walking towards the desk.

She looks up from some papers. “Good afternoon, Dr. Everdeen. Give me a second.” She swipes her tablet on and checks the doctors’ schedules. “Her shift finished ten minutes ago. I think you can find her in the changing room, or in her office.”

I smile at her in gratitude and turn towards Dr. Cresta’s office. I'm in luck, sort of. The doctor is leaving her office right now, following her annoying husband, Dr. Odair.

I wouldn't exactly say that I hate the man, but _God,_ is he irritating. There's no denying he is one of the most good-looking men I've ever seen, with his swimmer's physique, copper hair and sea-foam eyes – maybe I know only one guy who looks better – and everyone at the hospital thinks that, too. Dr. Cresta is lucky that he has eyes for her only. I heard he was the ultimate Casanova before he met her – which in some ways reminds me of someone else. The problem with him is that he likes to think himself very funny, and he likes to know everything about everyone. The biggest gossip in the whole hospital. It's like he can smell the secrets around you. That's why I usually stay clear of him, I don't want him to pick up something from me.

He smiles when he sees me. “Dr. Katniss! What can we do for you?”

I don't like the tone he uses, as if he knows something that I don't. “You, Dr. Odair, nothing. But your wife can.”

“What is it?” Dr. Cresta asks me as she struggle to button-up her jacket over her protruding belly.

I swallow, trying with all my might not to look down in dread. Here's another category of people that I find myself ill at ease with: pregnant women. It is probably because of the obvious connection with kids. “The... The consult I asked you this morning.”

She blinks at me twice, a half smile on her lips and her brow furrowed as if she doesn't understand what I'm talking about. Then something must click in her head, because she swears under her breath and lightly hits her forehead. “I'm so sorry, Everdeen! I completely forgot! Pregnancy hormones do that to me.” Dr. Cresta starts rummaging around in her briefcase and fishes out her planner. “I usually write everything down so I don't forget it.” She browses through the pages, stops at one and reads. “And I forgot to write it down.”

I don't know what to say. I can't exactly scream at her. She's my superior, is pregnant, and looks like she could start ugly crying any moment now.

“Aw, babe. It's not your fault.” Dr. Odair says as he wraps an arm around his wife’s shoulders and kisses her head. He looks more amused than concerned. He is not pregnant, so I don't feel guilty when I glare at him.

“It's fine, Dr. Cresta. Maybe you could do it now?”

Her expression changes from extremely distressed to extremely reluctant. “But I'm tired and my shift’s already over! I want to go home and take a bath. Can't it wait till tomorrow?” she whines. Mood-swings. That's great.

“But it's important, Dr. Cresta. And urgent.” I try.

“Which doctor is on the case with you?”

“Dr. Titus.”

“Why are you asking me, then?”

I give her a pointed look. She knows why.

Dr. Cresta seems to realize the answer to her question on her own. She sighs. “If you can't wait, you could ask Peeta. He is doing his rounds.”

I like to think that lately I've developed the perfect poker face whenever he is mentioned. My expression doesn't change, my body doesn't move, my voice doesn't crack. But I'm probably delusional because I feel the blush starting at my hairline and spreading to my cheeks and chest. I also notice Dr. Odair's eyebrows lifting slightly, and there's a suspicious twinkle in his eyes.

I do my best to sound indifferent. “Not to be disrespectful but why should I ask Mellark? He's still just a resident.”

“Well, so are you. And you are about to do a major surgery on your own.” Dr. Cresta points out.

I would really like to protest, but Dr. Odair asks, “Why don't you want to ask Dr. Peeta? Is there a problem between you two?”

It's really something strange to admit but there's no problem at all lately. Mellark and I are going along incredibly well, mostly because he is no longer a threat to my job now that Dr. Cresta has made him her assistant. And that other thing, too. But when we are at the hospital, apart from the occasional chit-chat in the hallways and sitting at the same table at lunch together with Madge and – surprisingly – Johanna Mason, I avoid being seen alone with him. I don't want people to start assuming things – which they probably already are, considering Odair's question. And maybe, just maybe, because I feel that I'm not completely in control of my actions when he is around.

“Not at all. I'll ask him immediately. Have a nice evening.” I say, then walk away.

I find Mellark in a little girl's room, writing something down on his tablet. I don't know what they're talking about, but he and the girl's parents are laughing while the girl looks a bit annoyed. I stay out of the room, watching him interact with his patient.

“When can I go home, Peeta?” she asks.

“First, you poop. Then you can go home. And it’s Dr. Mellark.” he says, pointing his finger at her but still smiling.

“I'll call you that if you send me home.”

“Honey!” her mother tries to scold her.

“It's not a negotiation, kiddo. You poop, you go.”

I'm fascinated by the ease with which Peeta can make everyone feel comfortable around him. Everything he does or says is socially flawless, even when he talks about poop, and he can create a friendly relationship with his patients and their families while still being incredibly professional. I am one of the best doctors this hospital has ever seen, but I can't do what he does. People often say that I'm cold, sometimes even rude. Not that I care. But I'm sort of bothered by the fact that this man seems to have everything. Intelligence, wit, looks, even a bit of swag – the last one is the thing that annoys me the most about him.

If someone had told me four months ago that I would be sleeping with Peeta Mellark, I would have laughed in their face and told them to fuck themselves. But here I am, and here he is, and I _hate_ how hot he looks with his scrubs on.

After our first “encounter”, I avoided Mellark like the plague. I couldn't find the courage to look him in the face, as much as I couldn't look at my own reflection in the mirror for a while. I couldn't believe I had fallen his victim, like all those other women that I pitied for so long. I couldn't believe that I let him leave little bruises over the skin of my neck and chest.

Something in our relationship had shifted. At first I thought it was just the shame eating at me. It took me a while to realize that what actually made me blush and made my heart suddenly jump whenever I saw him was desire, more than anything else.

After that, things got even worse. I couldn't be alone with him without fearing of doing something awful, like pleading. Once, I had to hide myself in the ladies restroom for a whole fifteen minutes because he had me so worked up with just a very intense look from across the hall. There was no denying that he had done something to me. I tried to recreate that day in the on-call room by myself, but to no avail. My body craved something that I couldn't get without help. And I knew, despite my reluctance to admit it, that the only person that could give me that help was Mellark.

So, one day, after two awkwardly frustrating months, during one of the most awkward elevator rides in history, I simply exploded. I hadn't seen him around with any woman from or outside the hospital during that time, so I imagined that he was in my same predicament. Especially because of that said look, and many others. So I stopped the elevator and straight up told him that we had to fuck again.

And we did. Oh, we did alright.

We worked on an agreement. We both needed to work off some steam. We were good at it together. We should keep doing that. And so we are doing.

I'm – very unprofessionally, I have to admit it – thinking about a particular session at his place when he wanted to mix sex and food and I had a chance to bite one of his firm buns. That's why I jump when he turns around and catches me ogling him. He doesn't complain, though. “Dr. Everdeen. What can I do for you?” I don't miss the slightly suggesting tone.

I clear my throat. “Dr. Mellark, do you have time for a consult?”

“Of course” he smiles. He says goodbye to the family and follows me in the aisle.

The moment he sees an on-call room, Mellark puts a hand on the small of my back and slightly pushes me towards it, careful not to be seen.

I freeze in the middle of the hallway. "What are you doing?" I ask him, my brow furrowing in confusion.

"You wanted a consult..." he lifts his eyebrows expectantly, as if my request had a second meaning I didn't understand.

"Yes, about a girl with mitral stenosis. Dr. Cresta told me to ask you."

Mellark looks at me in confusion. When he realizes I'm serious, his eyes get comically wide and he blushes slightly. "Oh! You wanted a consult!"

"That's what I've been saying."

I have to admit it, flustered Peeta is a show I'd pay to see. It's a very rare sight. I have to enjoy it as long as it lasts. "What were you thinking?" I ask him trying to hide a teasing smile, perfectly aware of what he thought this was.

"Nothing! I mean- You know..." he jerks his head twice towards the on-call room's door. At my unimpressed look, he hurries to explain. "It's not that I was expecting you to... you know... It's just... It's been a couple of days since the last time." He looks around to make sure we are not getting someone's attention. He then leans towards me and whispers in my ear, "And I miss your pretty pussy."

A twinge of unexpected pleasure darts to my hither regions, and I have to bite my bottom lip to avoid the moan elicited by his dirty mouth. He is right. It's been almost a week since the last time we fucked. And he fucked me so thoroughly that I walked funny all day after. I don't know how I managed not to jump him every time I saw him these past days. Probably it's the fact that we were both pretty busy lately, between OR and pre and post op. Plus, I don't want to have sex at the hospital again. You never know who could walk in on you, or see you sneak out of the room. That doesn't mean the situation doesn't need to change.

"No sex here, Mellark." I whisper back and he pouts adorably. Could he look more like a puppy lab?

"Okay..." he says in a tone so much like that of his little patients.

I smile a little. "When does your shift end?" I ask him.

He checks his watch. "Just in time for me to finish my rounds."

Good. I have the evening free, too. The first one this week. And after the consult, I'm positive that I'll have a clear plan of action for my patient. It needs celebration. "Okay. You go home, prepare something to eat, and then take it to my place. If you are lucky, you'll find me naked."

His perfectly crooked smile lights up his face. "Seems a fair deal."

I nod. "Now, about that consult."

***

When I open the door, Mellark's eyes immediately follow the lines of my naked body, slowly raking it from top to bottom. He doesn't look shocked or fazed, but he lets in a deep breath that tells me I managed the desired effect. I hadn't realized until earlier how much I needed this. When I came home to get things ready, just thinking about what his reaction would have been had me all hot and bothered.

He licks his lips before settling his gaze on my face. "What if it wasn't me?" he asks.

I shrug. "This is what peepholes are made for."

"Don't you have any neighbors?"

"The only one that could see me is Mr. Thread, and he is not home."

Mellark lifts an eyebrow and smiles in challenge. "How do you know that?"

My smile is seductive. I hope. "I checked." I say as I lean against the door jamb.

"And wh-"

I huff, smile gone because of his insistence on talking, and lift my hand in front of him to stop his question before he has time to finish it. "Mellark, I'm naked at my front door. How long are you still gonna blabber?"

He shuts up. The door closes with a bang as he kicks it and grabs a hold of me. I hear the bump of something hitting the floor, probably the Tupperware he used for carrying our dinner. But I can't give it much thought, not when Peeta's hungry mouth is locked with mine in a heated kiss, his hands raking my body, his fingers digging into my flesh and eliciting ecstatic moans. His hands are a bit cold, but I don't mind it. I barely even feel the corner of the wall that goes from the front door to the living room when we bump into it.

Peeta pins me against the wall, hips against hips, and I can already feel how much he needed this, too. It only makes my need even stronger.

My fingers comb and tug at his golden hair before swiftly moving to unbutton his coat and shirt. When his torso is exposed, I take a moment to let my short nails scrape the skin of his broad shoulders and hard chest. He groans. I love this sound.

Peeta's fingers move between my thighs, and even the lightest of frictions already feels so good. But I have different plans tonight. At least for now.

“No.” I say as I move away his hand. Peeta looks at me puzzled, heavy breathing. The hand on his chest squeezes his pec. “I need you.”

The intensity of his gaze is overwhelming. He lifts me up effortlessly and guides my legs and arms around him. In the months we have been going at it, he must have memorized the plan of my apartment, because we don't bump into any furniture despite being otherwise preoccupied.

He lets me slide across his body when we arrive at the couch, gently pushing me backwards. I'm flat on the couch, my legs slightly open across the armrest so he can position himself between them. I look up at him and smile teasingly while slowly brushing the side of my breast. I think it drives him crazy when I touch myself.

He all but jumps on me. His mouth immediately attaches itself on me. His hands squeeze my breasts as he grazes my collar bones with his teeth and leaves a wet kiss at the hollow of my throat. Oh, the things he can do with that mouth of his. But I don't have time to waste. I'm a woman on a mission.

I use my right leg and arm as levers against the couch and somehow manage to roll Peeta off of me. But he has a good grip on me, so we both tumble to the floor with me on top. Right where I wanted.

“Ouch.” he mumbles massaging the back of his head.

I try not to smile. “Sorry.”

He looks up at me through squinted eyes but there's a smile playing on his lips. “You don't look even remotely sorry.”

I shrug nonchalantly and my hands are back in action. I easily unzip his jeans as he reaches to the right front pocket and retrieves a condom. Then he helps me pull the jeans and underwear out of the way.

I roll the condom on his shaft in a second but take my sweet time taking him in. And when he's in to the hilt, I just have to stay still for a moment and enjoy the oh, so delicious way his dick stretches me.

We start moving in sync, sensuously, guided by the same purpose. I gyrate my hips and he squeezes my right thigh. His other hand slowly slides up my body, stops in the valley between my breasts, his long fingers barely skimming my collarbones.

I quite enjoy the expression on Peeta's face. Jaw clenched, eyes burning, tongue that sometimes sneaks out of his mouth to wet his lips. It's really an amazing look on him. And it has an effect on me, too. It makes me feel beautiful, desired, powerful.

For as much as a boost to my ego this is, it isn't enough. I'm in desperate need of a release. So I pick up the time and intensity of my thrusts. Enough to make Peeta arch under me.

Apparently all these days without going at it were too much for Peeta. I feel him start to shiver a bit like he does when a big climax is on its way. But he is a generous lover, I know he won't leave me high and dry.

Sure enough, he sits up, wraps an arm around my waist, and starts rubbing fast circles on my clit with the thumb of his free hand. I change my position so that my feet are planted on the floor and he hits something inside me that feels just – _oh, perfect!_

It doesn't take much longer for me to explode, head thrown backwards, inner walls clamping deliciously around him. My orgasm seems to generate his, as he moans for the last time and squeezes my waist just a bit tighter.

Peeta still has a good hold on me, so he pulls me down with him when he falls back on the floor. He loosens his grip just enough for me to roll off of him. I register the coffee table mere millimeters away from me. Better be careful when I get up.

We stay there for a while, looking at the ceiling, just enjoying the scrumptious post-sex blissfulness.

“That was... Wow.” he says.

“Yeah.”

From the corner of my eye I see Peeta lift up his head. “I still have my shoes on.” He wiggles his feet, jeans wrapped around his ankles.

I snort. “Not the first time.” Probably, not even the last.

He chuckles. After another minute of silence, he says, “I'm hungry now. Are you hungry?”

Now that he makes me think about it, I'm famished. And my stomach decides it's the best moment to make itself be heard.

Peeta chuckles again. “Stay put. I'm on it.” He puts his jeans back on and goes to the bin to get rid of the used condom.

I sneak a peek at the way those jeans perfectly embrace his fine ass when he bends to pick up the Tupperware he brought here. I just barely notice that he hesitates a second and picks up something else from under the umbrella stand next the front door, too. A slip of paper.

“Looks like a wedding invitation.” he says coming back to the living room. “Do you know... Leevy and Gale?”

I would have shot straight up if it weren't for the coffee table. I painfully hit my shoulder on its side and fall back. “Shit.”

I had completely forgotten about it. Not about the wedding. I highly doubt I could ever forget about the wedding.

I received the “save the date” card a couple of months ago. When I first found it in my mailbox, my first thought was, “How the hell did they get my address?”. Then I sat on my couch, I don't know for how long. Not even thinking, just looking at the goddamned card.

I wasn't exactly surprised I had received it. When your family has been best friends for generations with your ex's family, there's no way you wouldn’t get one. It would look quite weird and obvious for the whole family but one person to be invited. And I'm not entirely sure Leevy Jones would disagree.

She was my neighbor back in Pennsylvania. We weren't exactly friends, but we used to talk a bit sometimes. She was alright, but, for some strange reason, I always had this feeling that she was trying to be me. Not like me. Me.

We've always looked kind of similar. The same dark hair and gray eyes, even similar features. Same height, same size. We are of the same age, so throughout school I shared almost all my classes with her. She tried to be in most of my clubs, too. She even had clothes similar to mine. But when I was younger I was so focused on getting to where I wanted to be that confronting her about all this stuff wasn't at the top of my to do list. Not even when it concerned Gale.

It was quite obvious Leevy had a huge crush on Gale. I had caught her many times staring at him. Once we were having our lunch in the school garden and Gale was playing football with some friends when he suddenly had put his foot in the wrong position and fell, spraining his ankle. Leevy was at his side before me. And she was the one running to the nurse's office to tell the nurse Gale was coming. But I've never been the jealous type and, again, I was too busy to care.

They got together the year after I started college. When I was at PSU I used to go back home quite often, so it wasn't rare for me to see them together. I didn't mind at all that Gale had found someone else. He had made his decision when he had dumped me, I had accepted it and moved on with my life. I was glad that he wasn't still hung up on me. The first months of college he had tried to reconnect, saying that we had been best friends for a long time before anything between us had happened, that we shouldn't throw it all away. But it was really difficult, it was evident that things still couldn't get back to normal. So eventually we stopped seeing each other and effectively threw it all away.

After I moved to Washington, all the news about Gale came from my sister Prim and my mother. They didn't do that with malice or pity. They only thought I wanted to know that stuff. I didn't, but I let them tell me anyway.

So I knew about Gale and Leevy getting their own place, and I knew about how much Hazelle, Gale's mum, was happy of having Leevy in the family, and I knew he had proposed.

So, I couldn't exactly understand why I was so baffled by the card. At the end I just put it in the trash and didn't think about it. At least until I got the invitation. I gave it only a brief look before going back to shift through the bills. It must have slipped from my hand and ended up under the umbrella stand. I didn't think about this one, either.

But now, here it is, in Mellark's hand, and somehow it all feels wrong.

“Are you okay?” Mellark asks me.

“Yeah.” I sit up more carefully and grab the comforter on the couch to wrap it around me. I don't feel like being naked right now.

Mellark doesn't say anything. He just sits on the couch and puts the dinner on the coffee table. Pasta with vegetables. He even brought his own cutlery. He starts eating without me.

“She was my neighbor back home.” I tell him suddenly.

He hums. I don't know what prompted me to do so. Maybe I don't realize it but I just want to talk about it. This is not a conversation that I'm dying to have with anybody in general. Especially because it wouldn't be completely honest if I didn't tell him about Gale, too. I don't know. I'm honestly not that sure that I want to know. But I'm already saying it.

“He was my boyfriend.”

Mellark almost chokes on a bite of broccoli. “What?” he says in between coughing.

“He was my boyfriend.” I repeat.

“I got it the first time.” He looks pretty serious for a moment. He picks up the card from the table where he had discarded it and reads it again, as if there is something on it he didn't notice before. He looks back at me. “How are you?”

I shrug, but hug the comforter tighter around me. “I don't care.”

I'm not looking at him now, preferring to focus on the new task of filling my empty stomach. But I can feel his eyes on me, probably trying to discover some signs of my true feelings.

“Will you go alone? I mean, aside from your family.”

“Yep.” I answer, spearing my pasta.

He is silent for a long time, enough to make me wonder if he's alright. I turn to him and immediately am paralyzed by the intensity in his eyes. I'm still not used to the rapidity in which Mellark can change his entire demeanor. He was smiling and being silly just a moment ago, and now he is looking at me with determination and some other kind of emotion that I can't quite figure out. But it is somehow engraving itself in my head so that I probably will never be able to forget it.

I try to shake myself from the paralysis. “What?”

“I don't think it's a good idea.”

Okay, spell definitely broken. Now I feel annoyed, especially because of that expression on his face. But I ask him anyway. “Why so?”

“How long have you two dated?”

I don't know where this is going to. “All through high school.”

“And how many people invited to the wedding will be thinking that you should have been the one wearing white?”

I think about it for the first time and... damn, he may be right. I know there won't be anybody not pitying me for being invited to the wedding that, according to them, should be mine. I'm scared to even fathom what everyone will say if I go on my own.

But I don't know anybody that will want to go to this wedding with me. Lately I only talk with doctors, nurses, and patients, and they're not exactly people that I would want around me on such an occasion. The only man I have a somewhat non superficial relationship with is Mellark and– Wait a minute. Why would he bring up a sore subject like my ex's wedding? And why would he suggest going with a date?

“Are you perhaps inviting yourself to my ex's wedding, Mellark?” I ask, watching him suspiciously. No way I'm bringing my fuck buddy to my ex's wedding.

I try to imagine a world where Peeta and Gale coexist in the same room. The man I'm sleeping with and the one I didn't have much time for. And no, it doesn't seem right, or even possible. These are just two aspects of my life that shouldn't ever cross. Plus, c'mon! I can't take Mellark to my hometown to meet my family. What if someone there discovers the true nature of our relationship? How can I exactly tell my parents I'm bringing my friend with benefits to this kind of event? And what will everybody think seeing me with him? He doesn't exactly go unnoticed.

He scoffs. “I would never do that. Who would want to be dragged right into all that drama waiting to happen?” He is kinda right, but I don't completely trust him, yet. “I only think that, if you have to be the other center of the attention, you should at least give them someone hot to talk about.”

I feel like he is talking about himself, but I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt. Especially because he gave me something to think about. Do I want to go on my own to prove some kind of point? Do I want to go with someone so people won't talk about me that much? Do I want to go at all?

Peeta surprises me again with his next exit. “I don't like the idea of you being there alone.”

Again that tone. Again that thing at the bottom of his eyes that I'm starting to think could be able to cause some kind of disaster in my head.

And after that he once again changes topic and expression in a second. And I'm left there, half naked and confused, to ponder what the hell is wrong with this man.

***

“Rory was asking when I think you will answer Gale and Leevy.”

Oh, Prim. My beautiful, smart sister. She is in San Francisco now, attending her first year of residency. I'm so proud of her. But right now, I'm mostly irritated. And I'm even more irritated by the fact that I'm talking at the phone in the changing room of the hospital and I can't freely express the right amount of irritation I'm experiencing right now.

I should remember that she is best friend with Gale's little brother, Rory. And I should remember that she tends to think that I'm acting a bit childishly in this situation. Which could be true, but I won't certainly admit it to her, for as much as I love her.

“Prim, not you, too. Mum has already been torturing me about it for the last month.” The lovely Vivienne Everdeen doesn't miss a chance to remind me of the ties between the Hawthornes and us. Which is really nice of her.

From the other side of the phone, Prim sounds like she is the elder sister. “Katniss, I get it. You don't know what to do. But don't you think that not telling even if you're going or not is a bit too much?”

I huff. “I'm pondering.”

“What are you pondering about? If you're going or not?”

“Yes and no.” I pause, waiting for a third year resident standing next to the bench I'm sitting on to go away. I hate when people listen in on my private calls. “I've decided to go. I think it's the right thing to do.”

“Then why haven't you told them yet?”

I huff again. I don't like to admit this kind of things. “I don't know if I should go with a date.”

“Oh.”

Yes, oh.

After Mellark found the invitation, and after the following conversation, the thought of the wedding has been ruining my sleep. And sometimes my wake, too. As if I wasn't giving it enough attention, Mellark has been asking me non stop if I was alright about going, and if I thought I would be alright once back home. He has been saying that I shouldn't be alone, that I should have someone with me to keep me in a good mood, and all those crappy, cheesy things that I only recently found out he can say so effortlessly.

And, I hate to admit it, he has convinced me. The thought of being there alone, with all those old hags talking about how lonely I look, how beautiful the ceremony was, what a beautiful couple the groom and bride make, how wrong it was of me to choose my career over this future... I feel like retching just thinking about it. At least, with someone with me, there's a possibility that the guests will see that I'm not lonely. That I have people in my life.

Unfortunately, that is not exactly true. I have nobody in my life. Well, nobody of the male kind, at least. And nobody that I want to spend this wretched weekend with. Because that is what we are talking about. I have to find a man that won't mind spending an entire weekend in a small town in Pennsylvania, at the immensely awkward wedding of my ex boyfriend.

For a while, I thought that I could ask someone back home. I had a couple of boy friends. Thom and Darius. Those two were the primary source of laughter for me during high school, when I was too busy even to really enjoy myself. But then I realized that they were mostly Gale's friends, that I met them through him. Asking one of them would make things even more awkward.

And now I am here, sitting on a bench in the changing room of the hospital. On the phone with my sister. Thinking that I don't have any choice but to endure on my own what would probably be one of the most difficult time in my life. And this irritates me even more.

“I think you should.” Prim says after a long minute of silence.

“What?” To say that I'm surprised would be an understatement. I still remember how incredibly devastated Prim was after my break up with Gale. She was our biggest supporter. For her to encourage me to take another man to Gale's wedding is... I don't know. Strange.

“Yes, ask someone. Preferably someone hot, so that nobody will have the guts to talk ill about you.” This is even stranger.

“I don't know anybody.”

“I don't believe you. You must know at least one hot guy.”

I know a couple of them, but not personally enough. Well, I do know one really hot guy, and I know him very personally. But I push away the idea. It's a bad idea. A really bad idea. Why am I even considering it? Why am I comparing him to the guy Prim is describing?

“Obviously” Prim goes on, “he should be someone you are comfortable with.” Check. “Someone that would get the attention in your place and wouldn't mind it.” Check. “That would make sure that you are having fun.” Check. “And that wouldn't embarrass you.” Check.

Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no. Not doing that. Plus, I don't think he would be the right guy for the job. I mean, we've never been in this kind of situation together. And I already shot him down when we talked about it. No way in hell I'm bringing him.

But apparently I'm insane or something, because, while my brain is thinking all these noisy, bad thoughts, I'm saying, “I might know someone”, and I'm sprinting out of the changing room, my sister still on the phone.

“You do? Who is he?”

“Some guy. You don't know him.”

“That's because you never talk about the people you've met in DC.” she protests.

She's right. But I've reached the closest nurses' desk, so I ignore her. Nurse Flavius looks up at me with a smile. “I need to find Dr. Mellark.”

“Uh! Dr. Mellark! A colleague! Or a superior?”

“Shut up, Prim.”

Flavius keeps smiling, but I think I see a note of “she crazy” in there. “He is in OR one with Dr. Cresta. But they've just entered, I think he's still scrubbing.”

I thank the nurse and march to the OR.

“Who is Dr. Mellark?” my sister asks.

“Someone.”

“Have you fucked him?”

“Prim!” I'm incredibly scandalized by her question. I know that she's almost twenty seven, but I still see her as the little girl with two plaits and the hem of her shirt partially untucked.

“Hey, I'm not judging! Just curious. Is he hot?”

I unceremoniously open the door to the OR when I reach it, and Peeta looks up from the sink he is scrubbing his hands at. There, with the slightly surprised expression on his face, his ridiculous orange cap, suds covering most of his forearms, the answer comes easily. “Way too much.”

“What is it, Katniss? Who are you talking to?”

“My sister.”

He doesn't question it. “What is it?” he asks again.

“Are you busy next month.”

“Next month isn't exactly a small time frame. You'll need to be more precise.”

I roll my eyes. “The weekend from the 9th to the 11th.”

Mellark thinks about it for a moment. “I guess I can clear my schedule. Why are you asking?” His face is way too innocent for him not knowing what this is about. But I know he won't say it first.

“Would you come with me to that stupid wedding.” It's not a question. I'm too annoyed right now to ask it properly.

But Mellark smiles nonetheless, as if he had been waiting to hear that since the moment he picked up that invitation. “Gladly.”

“Good.”

“Did he say yes?” I forgot I had my phone still against my hear.

“Yes.”

“What color is your dress?” asks Mellark.

“What?” Too many question all at once.

“Your dress. If we're going together, we should wear matching clothes.”

It's a stupid idea. I don't know why I don't point it out. “I don't know. Prim, what color is my dress?”

“Why should I know? What color is it?”

“I don't think I have a dress.”

Prim is cursing me for being completely incompetent when it comes to clothing, when Mellark says, “You have that red dress you wore for the hospital's gala two years ago.”

I have to think about it. I didn't remember the red, one-strap dress with the flaring skirt. “How do you remember that dress?”

His crooked smile makes his appearance. “I could never forget you in that dress.”

I'm sure I get as red as said dress. Now I can't run away from the OR fast enough. “Okay, I'll wear that. Bye.” And I leave without giving Mellark a look.

***

“Who the hell gets married in December?” I murmur as I try to warm up my hands against the heater of my beat up Beetle.

“Romantic people, I guess.” Mellark says.

“If for romantic you mean idiotic, then you're right.”

“I bet fifty bucks that the reception's theme will be 'Winter Wonderland'.”

I scoff. “Gale would never be that cheesy. But you're on.”

Mellark smiles, looking at me from the corner of his eye. “We'll see.”

I don't know how Mellark is managing to put up with me today. Since we left DC, I've been bitter, snarky and irritated. Everything he says makes me either growl or snap but he hasn't complained about it even once, choosing to laugh it off instead. He has been nothing but supportive since I asked him to come to Pennsylvania with me, actually.

I panicked a couple of times, on the other hand. I've been regretting even considering Mellark as a viable option. But I had already sent the plus one answer and it was too late to take it back, apparently. I tried to convince Mellark not to come, to hell the shame of being stood up, as the bride and groom may have thought. That would have been so much better than having to face my hometown with my fuck buddy at my side.

But Mellark was adamant that I couldn't take my invitation back, and early this afternoon he showed up at my apartment with his little luggage, his garment bag, and his crooked smile. He wasn't even mad that we were driving to small Panem, PA because I hate flying. He is driving now, because he doesn't mind being behind the wheel for the three hours drive, while I'm too irritated to put up with the other cars in the highway.

Mellark tried to get me involved in a game of “Dog”, but I'm completely not interested. As a result, he is winning 12-0.

I fiddle with the radio, bored to death by the modern, poppy station we've been listening to for the past hour. I settle for the classic rock one that is broadcasting the familiar tune of _Any way you want it._ “That's better.”

“You like Journey?” Mellark asks almost incredulously.

“Everybody likes Journey.”

“You don't seem to.”

Any kind of relief that the hopeful lyrics may have brought me is wiped away by this remark. It would have been too good to never have him address the issue of my sore attitude once during the whole weekend. And, for as much as I would prefer to avoid it, I brace myself for the hopefully small avalanche of question that is about to come.

“Are you gonna be this bitter all weekend or only for the next two hours?”

“All weekend wouldn't be that bad.”

“I beg to differ. Dog.” He points to the car speeding before us. 13-0.

I huff impatiently. “What do you want from me? You should have expected this kind of mood.”

“I was prepared for it. But I don't know how helpful it will be to you.”

God. Why does he have to be concerned with my emotional well-being? Stupid busybody. He is right, being this hostile won't be of any use, but I won’t admit it to him. Call me stubborn, what do I care.

I don't want to talk anymore, but Mellark refuses to let it go. “Don't you want to talk about the reason behind it?”

“No reason. I just like to be a sore bitch sometimes.”

“And you have any right to feel like that. But maybe, if you analyze the source of your bad mood, you won't feel the need to be a sore bitch” he says.

What I feel right now is the need to punch him in his stupid, handsome face. I don't do that only because he is the one driving and I don't want to die. “You're a surgeon, not a psychologist.”

“It doesn't mean that I can't be a good friend and listen to you.”

Friend. What a strange word to use to define what Peeta is to me. If you add the part 'with benefits' it wouldn't sound so odd. Not anymore, I've come to terms with it pretty soon. But just friend... Could he be my friend? Could _I_ be his friend? We've been rivals for so long, and then so suddenly started having sex, that I hadn't exactly had time to consider any other possibility.

But apparently Peeta has been thinking about it, and he wants us to be friends. To be honest, since the beginning of our liaison or whatever, Peeta has always been supportive of me and my career. He has been the one inciting me to do my best at the hospital, and the one consoling me if I'd lost a patient. The one bringing me food and alcohol after a long, tiring day, and the one giving me the sweetest sexual relief that I could ever get. Thinking about it, it's not that difficult to see Peeta, if not as a friend, at least as an ally.

It's with this in mind that I finally decide to open up to him. “I regret ever thinking that going to this wedding was a good idea.” I says while looking out of the window.

Peeta is silent for a while, then he asks, “Do you regret asking me to come?”

My first answer is yes, but on second thought that isn't exactly true. “Not really.” I say. “I still think that you shouldn't be in the same room as my parents...” I pause, looking for the better way to phrase what's going on in my mind. “Strangely, in this whole messed up situation, you're the only thing that makes sense to me.”

He smiles, a sweet, almost shy smile that I've seen on his lips only twice, top. “Good. 'Cause there was no way that I would have let you go without me.”

Yes, I could get used to having a friend like Peeta.

We listen to the following three or four songs in silence, Peeta only humming along to an old tune that I don't recognize. Then he starts again with the questions.

“Not that it's any of my business” he says, “but how did things go south with Gale?”

I don't like to talk about me, and definitely not about a subject as hard as my relationship with Gale. But I guess that, if Peeta is to help me survive this weekend, I ought to at least tell him the story.

“We had been friends all our lives. Our fathers were best friends, like their fathers before them. So Gale and I were supposed to do the same. Not that it was hard. Back then, we used to share the same interests, liked and disliked the same things. Our friendship seemed completely natural to us. The same way that a romantic development of it seemed natural to anyone else.”

“Anyone else.” Peeta repeats. “It doesn't seem to involve the two of you.”

I smile ruefully. “It didn't. We were young when we started dating. And only because people thought we were supposed to. I'm not saying that I was forced into it. I decided that, if I had to be with someone, Gale was the logical option. I was happy with him, and I think that I really loved him, in my own way. But Gale didn't seem to be on the same page. We used to fight a lot during high school, mostly because, according to Gale, I preferred studying and club activities over him. And he was right, I was so focused on creating my future that I was forgetting about the present. We broke up after my graduation.”

“Who broke up with who?”

“He broke up with me.” I admit. “It wasn't easy for me. In a single blow, I had lost my boyfriend and my best friend. It was a terribly sad summer. But I had been accepted into PSU, so I had other more important things to occupy myself with.”

I fall silent, thinking about how the biggest part of fault for our breakup was on me. Feeling slightly guilty about not feeling guilty at all.

“It doesn't sound like the whole story.” Peeta says.

So I continue. “Since I used to go home quite often, we kept meeting each other. It was inevitable since his family is always with mine. We tried to go back at being friends. Before it felt as easy as breathing, but after all those years spent as a couple our friendship was awkward and forced. So we gave up. And then he noticed my neighbor, Leevy.”

“How did that feel?”

“At first, hard. But pretty soon I felt relieved that he had found someone else and wasn't hung up on me or something. I still am, honestly.”

“Why are you this bitter, then?”

I'd like to know that myself. That is the question I've been asking myself since I got the invitation. And I still haven't found an answer.

I shrug, and this time Peeta lets it go.

He bumps me with his elbow. “Don't worry about it. I will look so sexy in my suit that you won't have time to think about anything else.”

I laugh wholeheartedly, the first real laugh I had in awhile. Having Peeta with me is finally starting to look like a good idea.

Looking outside the window, a smile still on my lips, I notice something in the car we just surpassed. “Dog.” 13-1.

***

I'm not exactly sure what I was expecting when I tried to imagine Peeta Mellark interacting with my family, but it probably wasn't this.

When we had parked in front of the old one story house, my parents were already there. My mum's hands were very cold and she was sort of shivering. It made me wonder if she hadn't been waiting out there for us since when I texted her to tell her we were on the road.

She was incredibly happy to see us, and I think only a small part of it was a show for her guest. She didn't miss the chance to lament that I never visit, and that I should call her more often, but after years I sort of became immune to it. She absolutely _loved_ Mellark. She asked him all sorts of questions, like if he's enjoying his work in Pediatrics, or what his parents do for a living – he was strangely evasive in answering this one. All throughout dinner, I couldn't not notice the knowing looks my mum was giving the two of us. I was extremely careful when I told my parents that Mellark would be my date to the wedding. I insisted on the fact that he was only doing me a favor, that we weren't a couple. But I couldn't stop the gears inside her head from working on who knows what kind of plan.

My dad was a slightly different kettle of fish. You may not guess it by looking at him, but Abraham Everdeen is a shy man. He doesn't speak very much, he prefers actions to words. The only time he raises his voice is to sing, which he does almost constantly. But he spent the entire dinner in complete silence, not even hiding the fact that he was studying Mellark very carefully. I think dad scares him a little. Nonetheless, he hasn't said anything bad about Mellark, and even offered him a glass of his favorite scotch after dinner. That is a clear sign that he hasn't found anything that worries him. At least, not yet.

My sister has arrived not even an hour ago. She couldn't get today off, so she had to catch a flight this afternoon after her shift, eating and sleeping on the plane. When the taxi left her in front of the house, she was so tired she barely even said hello. But before going to bed, she looked at me with a somewhat proud face and nodded twice. I know that tomorrow she will ask all sorts of questions about Mellark, but for now that is all the approval he got from her.

After some more small talk – mostly between Mellark and my mum – my parents decide to go to sleep. I don't know if they – mum – want to give us privacy or if they are actually tired. Dad has been nodding on his armchair for a while now. Anyway, before heading down the hallway, my mum pulls me in the kitchen.

“So, Peeta...” she starts.

“What about him?” I think I know what she is asking and I would really like to avoid it. But I was the one inviting Mellark here, so now I have to suck it up.

“Are you sure there's nothing between you two?”

I huff. “I told you, mum. We're just friends. He's just doing me a favor.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

She doesn't seem to believe it. “And is there any chance of something starting in the future?”

The idea is ludicrous, I can barely contain my laugh. “No chance.”

“Are you sure about that? I mean, by the way Peeta–” she stops suddenly when something above my left shoulder catches her eyes, and she spaces out.

I shake her gently a couple of time. “Mum? Mum.”

She snaps out of it. This one was short, luckily. “Did I go away? I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry, it was only a few seconds.” Her new meds seem to be working well.

“What was I saying?”

“Something about the way Peeta something.”

She has to think about it for a minute, but then remembers it. “Sometimes he looks at you like you hanged the moon.”

My heart seems to skip a beat, and then starts pounding away. But it is not excitement. It's panic. What did my mother see? Did she confuse lust for something different? Does lust show on Mellark's face sometimes? Does it on mine? I need to have a talk with him, we can't let anyone understand what we do together.

“You're wrong, mum. We're just friends. He's just doing me a favor.”

She is still not convinced, probably because I repeated myself. But apparently she will let it go, for now. We exchange goodnights and she goes to her room.

Mellark is finishing preparing the couch he'll sleep on this weekend. Neither of us is really tired, yet. I actually feel a bit anxious about my conversation with mum. And about tomorrow, even if I'm playing it down and trying to be a bit less bitchy than this afternoon. Mellark doesn't ask, for once, and I'm grateful for it. Since I don't want to talk about anything right now, I decide that the other topic can wait, too.

We decide to watch TV for a while and settle for an old black and white Christmas movie. I don't know it but Mellark has seen it before and he assures me that it's good.

I couldn't have imagined that such a domestic scene would be this nice. At least not with Mellark. But sitting with him on a couch made up as a bed just watching a movie is so relaxing that I feel the residual worry starting to melt. I don't know if the cause of my state of mind is the calm reining in the house or Peeta's presence next to me. I don't ponder about it too much, deciding to just enjoy it and chill.

Unconsciously, my eyes wander from the screen where a happy family is decking their house for the holiday. I study Peeta's profile. I've been doing that a lot, lately. He really has a nice profile. I don't know if I like it or if it just annoys me. The straight nose with just a sprinkle of freckles on it. The pink lips, the bottom one slightly plumper than the other. The strong jaw that sometimes Peeta rolls almost without thinking. And the eyes. Those perfect, blue eyes. I don't know how to exactly describe his eyes. They're like shining gems embedded in the golden nests that are his lashes. Ugh. This one is terrible. But even his lashes are a thing of beauty. They're golden and thick, slightly curved at the end. And they're so long that I don't know how they don't tangle when he blinks.

Suddenly, Mellark points his perfect eyes on me and I startle, rapidly focusing again on the movie to pretend nothing happened. But Mellark has too much fun teasing me, he won't let this chance pass.

“Were you looking at me, Katniss?”

“Nope.”

“I could swear you were.”

“Uh-uh.”

I feel him shift next to me. “Are you sure about that?”

I swallow and nod. I don't trust my voice right now.

Peeta's nose grazes the side of my neck, and his breath warms the skin there. “Too bad.” he whispers, then lays a kiss just under my jaw. “If you were, I could have been prone to do something nice for you.”

The prospect of something nice, together with the wetness quickly gathering in my underwear, prompts me to ask. “What if I were?”

Peeta's finger under my chin makes me turn my head towards him. The sudden fire in his eyes would be enough to set me ablaze.

“Then I would do this.”

It's a sensuous, slow kiss, the kind Peeta got me used to. It starts gently and softly, then a slow swipe of his tongue against my bottom lip asks for entrance. We explore each other's mouth leisurely as hands start to roam, caress, grab. Before I know it, I'm splayed on the couch under Peeta, his left hand pinning my wrists on the armrest and my legs spread enough to cradle him.

It's a very familiar position. When his free hand sneaks under my sweater I'm oh so tempted to take things to the next, usual step. The same goes for Peeta, too, if the bulge that I feel hardening against my jeans is to be believed. But somehow I can't get out of my head that this is my childhood house and my parents and little sister are sleeping down the hallway. And this can definitely ruin the mood.

I manage to detach my lips from Peeta's. “We are not having sex on my parents' couch.”

“Are you sure about that?” he grins. He must be thinking he is so funny repeating himself. He thinks he is funny a lot. Or maybe he thinks that I can't resist him. If that's the case, then he is wrong. Sort of.

“Yes, of this I'm sure.”

He looks disappointed but the almost childish glee that instantly follows makes me think that he was just pretending. “Can we still make out? 'Cause, you know, I don't dislike making out with you.”

I have to stifle my laughter at his teen's antics. I don't dislike making out with him either. Which, now that I think about it, is kind of strange, considering the fact that I used to hate his guts. But his mouth descending on mine again distracts me from this thought.

And the knock at the front door distracts me from the kiss.

I free my wrists and get up from the couch so fast that Mellark almost falls off of it. I hope whoever knocked hasn't seen us tangled together from the living room's windows. That would be really embarrassing to explain.

“Do you think they saw us?” I ask Mellark straightening my sweater.

“Do your guests usually peek through your windows?” he asks me back as he sits up. “If not, then I don't think so.”

My eyes roll back so hard I wouldn’t be surprised to see the inside of my skull. Aside from that, I ignore Mellark and proceed to open the front door.

It must have just started snowing. Snowflakes are silently coming down in the night but they melt mere seconds after reaching the ground. All but those that have landed on his hair, sprinkling the dark locks with tiny white speckles. The cold has turned the tips of his nose and ears red. Despite slouching to repair himself from the weather, he still looks so much taller than me. His gray eyes are as piercing as I remembered them. He has a beard now. Gale Hawthorne has always been quite a good-looking man.

“Hey.” he says. He looks kind of surprised to see me here for being the one who knocked at my parents' front door. But he is definitely not as surprised as I am to see _him_ here.

No, scratch that. I'm not surprised. I'm panicking.

Mellark is sitting just across the room, I can see his blond curls from the corner of my eye.

Mellark and Gale in the same room. Two worlds colliding. This can't be happening. This won't be happening. I thought I had time, at least until tomorrow. And I will.

Before Gale asks if he can come in, or before Mellark comes to the front door with the ridiculous idea to meet Gale, or before any possible interaction between those two can happen, I step outside and close the door behind me.

Not a smart move. I locked myself out. And it's really too cold for just a sweater. I hug myself in a hopeless attempt to keep warm.

“Hey.” I repeat his greeting. Original, Katniss.

A second of silence. “I didn't expect you to still be awake.” he says.

I think he was hoping that. And I'm slightly confused. “Why did you knock, then? Did you need my parents?”

He looks slightly confused, too. “No, I...” Pause. He looks away. “I don't know.”

This is a strange behavior for Gale. He always knows the reasons of his every actions and never does anything without thinking it through very carefully. It's like he is some strategist or something. Perhaps the prospect of getting married tomorrow is getting to him. Or perhaps some things change.

He looks down the street, three houses down, where Leevy used to live. “Lee texted me to go to her parents' and get this thing that she's forgotten there.”

I feel a sense of uneasiness creeping up my back, not because I don't like my ex's soon-to-be wife but at the fact that my ex has come to my parents' house to talk to me about his soon-to-be wife. Or maybe I'm just cold.

“Oh, you're not staying at your place tonight?” I'd really love to kick myself right now, or to bite my tongue off. What the hell am I thinking asking this kind of question? Am I stupid? Well, I guess this wedding is making everybody stupid.

“No, I'm at my mom's. Lee is at our place.”

I nod. My painfully awkward question has got its painfully awkward answer. Apparently, the conversation has reached its end because we both stay silent for a while, looking all around my parents' small front porch to avoid looking at each other.

Why doesn't he excuse himself and leave to do whatever he has to do at the Jones'? Why am I not excusing myself because my nose is getting runny and I'm sure I will get a bad cold if I stay outside any longer?

I inwardly bless Gale when he starts talking again. And I curse him the next moment because he is not saying anything about leaving. “Anyway, I saw a light from the living room window and thought I could catch up with you.”

What? Why? My stupid brain takes one of the questions that are running around my head which shouldn't be expressed and lets it out. “You didn't expect me to still be up but you knocked to talk with me anyway?”

Gale finally – or unfortunately, it depends on how you look at the situation – looks at me, and it's a look I know all too well. His mouth a straight line, his head slightly cocked to the right. He used to look at me like that anytime I'd been over-analyzing things. Guess that some other things don't change, huh?

I lift my hands in sign of peace. It may be an awkward conversation but I definitely don't wanna fight.

His expression softens a little.

I don't know why but I try a simple, yet stupid question. “So, how are you feeling about tomorrow?”

This must be the most bashful smile I've ever seen on his face. The tip of his nose curls slightly as he looks to the ground and stuffs his hands deep inside his coat pockets.

“A bit anxious. But overall excited. I can't wait.”

Here comes the uneasiness again weighting on and compressing my chest. It's all on me for asking this question. I should have imagined that a possible good reaction from my happy ex could have been painful to digest. For a second it makes me think of all the what ifs that have been collecting in my head since the moment I got the save the date. All of which I've been very careful not to think about.

Strangely, I also feel like smiling. I feel... how do I feel? Happy? Gosh, I think so. I think I'm happy that Gale is happy.

And, honestly, why shouldn't I be? My childhood best friend is getting married to the woman that makes him smile like a shy schoolboy. This is the best thing that could ever happen to him. The last time we had seen each other he still looked so hurt after everything that had happened between us and at the moment I wondered if things would ever get better for him.

They did. And that's why I'm happy, I realize.

It seems like a good moment to lighten up the mood even more. Let's try a joke. A joke seems harmless.

“Well, I was anxious about the wedding, too. I couldn't find a dress until the last second.” I mimic tossing my hair over my left shoulder, like some girls at our high school used to do.

Gale chuckles. He knows I couldn't care less about dresses. In fact, it was a recurrent joke among our little group of friends.

I smile too. Good job, girl.

“How are you doing, Katniss?”

I recognize the genuineness in his question. I know he's not asking just to be polite.

“I'm really good. My job is fantastic. At the beginning of the year I became assistant to the Chief of Cardio and, thanks to him, I recently did my first solo surgery. That was pretty cool. In the last few years I even made some good friends. I'm really good.”

Gale smiles. “That's good for you.”

“Thanks.”

This feels good. I never thought about our possible reunion in these terms. If I had, I probably would have spared myself a lot of long sleepless nights. Could it possibly be that for us to go back at being friends without feeling awkward, we should have eliminated any possibility of us? Because now that he loves someone else it feels right. It's easy to feel happy for him. Who knows what direction our lives would have taken if only we hadn't given into the pressure from the people around us. Maybe, it would have been like this. Easy.

We're both happy and smiling when the worst thing imaginable happens and I'm immediately aware that I'm outside in just my sweater and it is fucking cold.

The front door opens.

I don't know if the look on Mellark's face is surprise, confusion, or panic. Maybe a bit of all three. “Sorry to interrupt.” he says, uncertain whether looking at me or Gale before settling his eyes on me. “You were out awhile, I thought you would be cold without your coat.”

I only now notice the green thing on his arm. “Thank you.” I say but I don't move to take the coat from him. I'm suddenly completely paralyzed.

Mellark doesn't wait though, and almost immediately drapes my coat over my shoulders.

I somehow grab the collar of it so it doesn't fall.

I don't know why Mellark hasn't gone back inside or why his hand goes to the small of my back and stays there. I don't know why I don't shake it off.

Gale has been watching our little interaction silently, but I could recognize the dissatisfaction mounting inside him from the thin line of his mouth and the slight frown.

“Hi. You must be Gale.” Damn Mellark and his good manners. “I'm Peeta. Nice to meet you.” He offers his hand to the taller man, but Gale only looks at it briefly and doesn't move an inch. Mellark resists a couple of seconds before retreating his hand awkwardly.

Nobody talks, nobody moves. I look at Gale, Gale looks at Mellark, Mellark looks at me. The spot under where Mellark's hand is resting is strangely warm. This is painful. Terribly painful. And, if I'm deciphering Gale correctly, it's gonna get even worse if someone doesn't do something.

“Mellark, why don't you go inside.” I offer. “You do not have your coat on, after all.” I really hope that he understands what I'm actually saying to him. Hide.

Luckily, he does. “You're right. It' really cold out here. I'm gonna wait inside.”

“Don't lock me out.”

“Don't worry.” He turns to Gale. “I'll see you tomorrow, then.”

Gale doesn't answer.

“Alright.” Mellark seems weirded out by the fact that there is someone other than me that doesn't like him immediately from the start. He doesn't say another word as he goes inside. But he looks at me with some sort of apology written all over his face.

Gale doesn't talk for a whole minute after Mellark has disappeared inside the house. And when he does, I don't particularly like the tone he uses for the only word he says. “Right.”

Calm down, Katniss. Take a deep breath, try to be nice, and try not to screw this up more than it already is. I mean, we were all smiley faces not so long ago, it shouldn't be difficult to go back there. Or is it? Was I right thinking that bringing Mellark to my hometown would have been a mistake? Is this the confirmation of my fear?

I try to use the most plain tone that I can muster. “What?”

“I almost had forgotten you were taking someone to the wedding.” It doesn't seems like it. More like he was trying not to think about it. “Who is this Peeta, exactly?”

I use the same line that I offered everyone who asked me the same question. “He's a friend from work. He is doing me a favor.”

Gale scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” No reason not to speak my mind. To hell trying being nice.

“C'mon, Katniss. Do you think I'm an idiot?”

“Well, I'm starting to.”

“He shouldn't be touching you in that way if he were just a friend.”

“Excuse me?”

“It's obvious by the way he looks at you that he has already seen you naked.”

“What?!”

“Are you screwing him?”

“How fucking dare you?!” I don't know how I manage to keep this as a whisper-scream. Probably I'm instinctively trying not to wake the whole neighborhood. So that's what he came here for. The fact that he just wanted to see me was too good to be true.

“I dare because I care about you!” I'm taken aback for a second. That was not what I was expecting to hear coming out of his mouth right now. The signs of anger that had started showing on his face leave their place to a more worried look. “What's happening, Katniss? You were such a serious girl. All you wanted was to be the best at your work. And I know you're doing it, but– what, you get involved in a sexual, probably meaningless affair with some piece of meat doctor? Why are you wasting your time on something like that? I'm sure it is incredibly distracting, especially if you two work together. He certainly looks like someone that can't keep his hands to himself. And you're even making him stay at your parents' house! What is it, Katniss? Did you start it so you could come back here and throw it in my face? Some sort of revenge for the wedding?”

“Oh, God! Shut up!” This one I can't keep hushed. I lower my voice. “First, I'm really offended that you think that I'm not capable of being an amazing doctor while being a woman with a sexual appetite. It is really rude. Second, you have no say in my personal and sex life whatsoever. What I do with whomever I want is none of your business. And the fact that you think I brought Peeta to somehow get back at you confirms what an idiot you actually are. The only thing Peeta is here for is to keep me company and to keep the horrible people of this town away from me.”

He looks really surprised by my outburst. Good. He deserves even worse. At first I didn't want to tell him what there is between me and Peeta but now I just can't resist throwing in this last zinger.

“And since you asked me, yes, I'm screwing him. He's my fuck buddy. I can fuck him any way I want, and he can fuck me any way he wants. He fucks me _so good_ that he always blows my mind. I have multiple orgasms every time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going back in so I can fuck him hard and fast on my parents' couch.” I raise my voice again. “See you tomorrow!”

I don't wait for his answer or to see him leave. I don’t even wait to see if this last part had the desired effect on him. I turn on my heels, get inside and shut the front door on his face.

Back in the house, my frustration is immediately redirected to the familiar mop of blond curls that I see over the back of the couch.

I get to Mellark in two long strides and throw my coat at the back of his head. “I should choke you to death!”

It's pretty obvious that he's sorry when he turns around and looks at me like a sad puppy. It almost works. Almost. “I'm really sorry. I didn't think he would react badly. I just didn't want you to catch a cold.” Well, okay, it works.

My anger immediately deflates and I suddenly feel very tired. I fall next to Mellark on the couch and I pinch the bridge of my nose as I throw my head backwards.

“Was it that bad?” he asks.

“He said some displeasing things. I said some others.” I mumble.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Oh, hell, no!” Right now is not the time to let Mellark practice his psychiatry skills.

“It's okay if you want to cry.”

I scoff. I feel offended. I never cry. And I'd be dead before Mellark catches me crying in front of him.

Nevertheless, I don't shake his hand away when it grabs mine between us. I let my head fall on his shoulder. This is actually a nice place to rest.

The old Christmas movie is still playing on TV, but neither of us pay attention to it. Or to any other program that this channel broadcasts after the movie is over until the sun is up and shining.

***

The first part of the dreaded day goes by faster than I thought it would.

I let Prim do my make-up, mostly because I made a poor job at covering the black bags under my eyes. My sister spends this time giving Mellark and me sneaky glances and snickering, definitely mistaking the reason why I look like I didn't have a blink of sleep. But nobody in the house dares to say anything about it.

The ceremony is actually pretty lovely. Thankfully, all the guests in the church are too busy looking at the beautiful couple at the altar to even spare me a glance. And, honestly, who wouldn't? Gale and Leevy look incredible together in their wedding getups. From the moment she walked down the aisle, Gale couldn't take his eyes off of her. She's radiant even with teary eyes. From my spot near the back of the church, I think I see Gale wiping a tear away. I don't think I’ve ever seen someone more in love. Plus, now that I look at her - really look at her - I don't see much of a resemblance between us, aside from the hair and eye color.

In this moment, realizing that this is the end of anything between me and Gale, I feel something inside me snap, like some kind of chain that was keeping me rooted to the ground has finally broken and let me free. I feel so light and happy.

And now that I’m not anxious or chained anymore, I feel _famished_.

The reception venue is the most beautiful hall in town, the Meadow Manor. Hidden in the middle of the forest, the majestic villa hosts all important events in Panem. During the Spring it is completely surrounded by all shades of green and by the completely in-bloom meadow the building takes his name from. In this season it’s nothing short of a Winter wonderland.

The inside of the villa is beautifully adorned with iridescent crystals and lovely little bouquets of horned violets and snowdrops. White, velvety ribbons hang all over the hall. Cloths of different shades of white adorn tables and chairs mimicking snow.

“You owe me fifty bucks.” Mellark whispers in my ear as he helps me taking my coat off.

I ignore him. I won't give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right.

He gives our overcoats to the girl at the cloakroom, and when he turns around he freezes. He looks me up and down and takes a deep breath, so much like he does when I surprise him naked.

“What?”

“I really overestimate my photographic memory.” He gives me his crooked smile. “You look a hundred times more beautiful than I remembered in that dress.”

Right, at my parents’ he saw me only when I already had my coat on. And in church it was way too cold to take it off. Not that I would have dared to expose so much skin in church. Unless I wanted to be lapidated by some of the more conservative folks in Panem.

I think I’m blushing a little. I really hope my make-up covers it.

I try to play nonchalant. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

He really isn't. The fabric of his suit looks pristine, perfectly tailored around his figure. The jacket wonderfully highlights his broad shoulders, muscled arms, and slim waist. He looks devilishly handsome wearing black on black. And he wasn't kidding about the matching outfits. His tie is the same color of my dress. I point at it. “I particularly like the tie.”

He winks at me and offers me his arm. “Shall we?”

I shake my head but still accept his offer.

The event is relatively pleasant. There is a table reserved only for my family - plus Mellark - so I don't have to talk with others. Now and then people stop at our table to chat with my parents but most of them are more interested in asking any kind of question to Mellark than to me. I think I will have to thank him for today.

The food is fantastic. Especially the lamb stew with plums on a bed of wild rice. I probably won’t forget the rich flavor any time soon. Mellark appreciates it, too. He looks at his empty plate as if he wants to lick it. The wine we’re drinking is not bad either.

The newlyweds open the dances soon after the cake has been served. For their first dance as man and wife they opted for _At Last_. Well, it’s not much of a dance. They’re more like swaying together in place. Gale’s tall frame has never allowed him to develop a decent coordination on the dance floor. But Leevy doesn't seem to mind at all. She’s positively beaming up at her husband.

The day proceeds smoothly. I have to say, I’m extremely relieved that, aside from my encounter with Gale last night, the weekend has been pretty much uneventful. In retrospect, I admit that I may have been making a mountain out of an ant hill. I feel a bit stupid right now thinking about all my fears.

In the evening, Mellark and I are alone at our table. Prim has disappeared somewhere with Rory Hawthorne and my parents are talking with Hazelle at her table.

I think that I am a bit tipsy from that one too many glass of wine I gulped down like it was water. I'm looking at all the people dancing in the middle of the hall with a small smile on my face. Maybe Mellark mistakes my slightly intoxicated expression for wishful thinking because he gets up and takes off his jacket, draping it over the back of his chair. “Let's dance.”

“Uh, no, thank you.”

“C'mon, it'll be fun.” He offers me his hand.

“I don't wanna dance.”

“Why? We are at a wedding. People dance at weddings.”

“Because then people will start looking at me and I don't want them to.”

“I think you're a bit too much obsessed about yourself.”

I hope my face is enough for Mellark to understand he can go fuck himself.

But it doesn't deter him. “C'mon. I'll get everyone's attention away from you. I can do the chicken dance on every song. And I mean _every_ song.”

I remember an episode of some TV series that he wanted me to see in which there is the same scenario. “You watch too much TV. When do you find the time?”

“I'm great at multitasking.” He smiles at me.

I give in with a defeated sigh.

Mellark grabs my hand and almost drags me in the middle of the dance floor. _Dream a Little Dream of Me_ starts playing. We face each other, then Mellark rolls up his sleeves and starts doing the unthinkable. He does a slow-motion chicken dance.

I'm terrified. I grab his arms to stop him from waving them. “Oh, my God! Stop it! It's too embarrassing. I can't let you do that.”

He laughs. His right hand catches my left, and his left one sneaks around my waist and pulls me closer to him. I have to grab his arm not to fall on my ass. He then proceeds to swirl me around three times. I'm not very good at dancing but with Mellark guiding me I look like freaking Ginger Rogers. Well, maybe I'm exaggerating.

“I think I forgot to mention that I'm also a great dancer.”

I'm speechless. I don't know how to express how irritated I am that I still haven't found something Mellark is bad at.

“How?” I manage to get out.

“I may have attended two debutantes' balls. Don't ask.”

He pulls me a little bit closer to him, my body only a centimeter away from his. My breasts brush lightly against his firm chest. I feel his left arm flexing and relaxing. The hand on his arm slips on his pec.

I look up at him and I’m immediately transfixed by the intensity in his eyes. If I don't look away or defuse the situation I’ll drown in these perfectly blue pools.

“Whoa. There’s not much space for Jesus in here. Did the debutantes teach you this?” I cringe inwardly. I always ask the best questions.

Mellark mischievous grin is the answer I get. “I can tell you that this is much better than a ball.”

“How so?”

“Well, to start, you don't have braces.” His mouth gets close to my ear as he whispers, “But my favorite thing is that with you I can recreate all the fantasies I'm having right now.”

As he moves back, his lips lightly graze my neck and the skin there is on fire. I shiver. Goddammit, I hate him so much.

I hope my voice doesn't sound too shaky. “Oh, really?”

Mellark nods.

“What are those?”

He lifts his eyebrows, almost surprised. But I know he's just pretending, he knew I would have asked. The sneaky bastard. “Do you really wanna know?”

I shrug. Yesterday I told him we couldn't fuck in my parents' house but that doesn't mean that I can't enjoy a bit of dirty talk, especially from the gifted mouth of Peeta Mellark. There's no harm in it, right?

He looks around us as to make sure that nobody is listening in on us. “Well, by now you must have figured out that I have fond memories of you in this dress.” His thumb starts caressing my side slowly. “What you don't know is that from the first time I saw it I couldn't stop thinking about taking you in it.”

This kind of surprises me. The first time I wore this dress was for PHM fund-raising gala, almost two years before our first “encounter.” Does it mean that Mellark had been having sexual thoughts about me for all that time and didn't do anything about it until I kissed him in the on-call room? That seems really out of character. For as long as I've known him, whenever Mellark wanted a girl, he had her in a matter of days. Why didn't he do the same with me? But I don't dare voice my thoughts.

Peeta continues, lowering his voice. I close my eyes to shut my head up and better enjoy the ride. “First, I want to pull down your top and see how perky your breasts can get with the extra support. Then I want to squeeze them, and lick them slowly, very slowly, and taste your sweet, tender skin. I don't wanna miss a single inch of it. You know how much I love doing so. I want to lift your skirt, scrape your thighs, and grab that pretty, little ass of yours.”

His hand moves from my side to the small of my back, leaving a trail of fire. The thumb of the hand holding mine draws small circles on the back of it. I never thought hand-holding could be sensual.

“Now I want to see how my doing is working for you, so I slip a finger in your panties. By now, if experience serves me right, you should be pretty wet. Still, I move my finger a couple of times over your clit, before slipping it inside you to touch that sweet spot that always makes you moan.”

I exhale tremulously. I grab the collar of his shirt as if it could keep me upright. I don't trust my wobbly legs. But I know that this is effecting Peeta, too. I feel his erection pressing angrily against my thigh. Perhaps that's why he pulls me even closer to him, to cover himself.

“At this point I usually imagine pulling your panties down to your ankles and giving you a good, proper lick. You always taste so good when you're wet for me. Maybe I could make you taste the flavor that you left on my finger earlier. Would you mind that?”

I try not to moan.

“I would use my hot tongue on your clit, just the way you like it. Then I would push it inside you again and again, until I'll make you come, the sweetest release you've ever felt. Actually, I think I would make you come this way another time, just because I can. After that, I want to throw your legs over my shoulders and bury myself so deep in you that neither of us would know where I stop and you begin. And I'd fuck you. Hard but slow.”

“Okay. Stop it.” I halt our dance. I wasn't even aware we were still dancing. I can't endure this any longer. To hell the no sex in my hometown policy. I look Peeta straight in the eyes. “You need to do this.”

He grins at me. “I'll be happy to comply, as soon as we get a chance.”

“No, you don't understand. I mean right now.”

He looks surprised, this time genuinely. “But you said...”

“Forget what I said. Let's do what _you_ said.”

I don't think I've ever seen Peeta move this fast. He pulls me to our table and retrieves his jacket, his new shield against the world. He is definitely very pissed when we reach the cloakroom and find out that the girl he gave our coats to is nowhere to be seen.

“Where the hell...” he mutters as he looks around for her. I think he is tempted to go and retrieve our coats himself. It makes me giggle.

But then, of course, I hear someone calling my name.

Gale.

He is walking briskly towards us. From the expression on his face, I'd say he is pissed.

Shit.

Does he want to lecture me again? Or maybe he wants to start a fist fight with Mellark. Dammit, why did I think that the day had been uneventful? I jinxed it.

I stand between the two men. Perhaps, if I'm in the way no punches will fly. “What is it, Gale?”

“Are you leaving?” he asks me.

“Yes.”

“With... him.” He points at Mellark.

“Well, I came with him. I thought it would be rude if I left him here.”

“Katniss, don't be witty. You can't pull it off.”

“I thought it was kinda funny.” Mellark says behind me.

I lift my hand to shut him up. “What do you want, Gale?”

“I'm trying to make you come to your senses.”

I snort. That is rich. “And why should you do that?”

“I told you last night. I'm doing this because I care. You have to understand that I have your best interest in mind.”

Okay, this is starting to sound way too patronizing for my taste. I cross my arms in front of me. “And you think I don't?”

“No, you don't. Or you wouldn't have started an affair with a random guy.”

“I'm not a random guy, and I'm right here.” Mellark chimes in.

“I'm a grown woman, Gale. I can do whatever I want.”

He huffs and rubs his face. “You don't understand. I'm not saying you shouldn't have sex. That is your business. I'm saying that you are wasting your time and energy on something that is not gonna work.”

I'm confused. “What are you talking about?”

“This thing that you two are having isn't good for you. You could have a normal relationship with someone who respects you and cherishes you. Instead you decide to have meaningless sex with someone that, obviously, wants only that from you. Otherwise, he wouldn't be okay with your little agreement in the first place.”

Mellark starts saying something, but I interrupt him. “You don't know shit about our agreement.”

“Yeah, well, I know you. I know how you work, even unconsciously. The kind of agreement you made entails that, aside from sex, you have nothing to do with him. You are not obligated to care about him. But you do, Katniss. You can say that it's not true, but you do. If you didn't, you wouldn't have brought him here, you wouldn't have introduced him to your family. You still don't realize that you're setting yourself up to be disappointed and hurt. And hurt is the only thing that will come out of this situation if you don't get yourself out of it as soon as possible.”

What the actual fuck? Who the hell does he think I am, some kind of damsel in distress that needs to be saved? How dares he tell me what I should or shouldn't do?

I'm about to scream all this loudly, but Mellark puts his hand on my shoulder and stops me.

“I think that now I should have a say too, since you're talking about me.” He speaks to Gale. “You don't know me and you don't know what I think. I get it that you worry about Katniss and don't want her to get hurt but I can tell you that you don't have to. You just assume things about me. You think that I am some kind of pervert that forced Katniss into having sex with me. But what you don't know is that she was the one proposing this agreement.”

Gale looks at me shocked. I shrug. I don't care what he thinks right now.

Peeta continues. “You also think that I'm taking advantage of her, that the only thing I want is sex. Well, you're wrong. If I only wanted to get laid, I could have asked any other girl. It's different with Katniss. I enjoy every second I spend with her from the bottom of my heart. We can talk about work, or personal stuff, or the most stupid thing we can come up with. We can have dinner, or watch an old movie, or bicker. It doesn't matter, I always cherish those moments. Of course I do! She's smart, driven, sometimes funny, and kind, even if she doesn't seem to realize that. And yes, she's beautiful. Damn, she's smoking hot. But that's not the reason why I like being with her.” He looks at me. “She's just... awesome.”

My heart flutters. What does all this mean? Does he really think that about me?

Peeta looks back at Gale. “I have no intention whatsoever to hurt her. I want to spend all of my time with her, all the time that she will give me. And I want all this time to be happy because I want Katniss to be happy. Everything I do is to make her happy, I love it when she's happy. Because I really... really...” Suddenly Peeta trails off. His eyes, as big as saucers, set on the floor. His face becomes a shocked mask.

Nobody talks. Mellark looks paralyzed.

“You really what?” I ask.

Nothing.

I try again. “Mellark, you really what?”

Still nothing. What kind of epiphany could've hit him so hard that it has left him completely speechless?

I see Gale's face light up. He must have gotten it. “Oh.” he says.

“Yeah...” Mellark answers.

I look between the two men. What the hell is it? I don't get it.

Mellark shakes himself and clears his throat. “Anyway, um... My point is: I don't mean any harm to Katniss. Plus, I think that if someone that can hurt her actually exists, she would kick their ass.”

This seems like a weak point to end an argument. I honestly expected more by the captain of his high school's debate team. But Mellark looks strangely agitated. He's almost holding his breath. He clenches and unclenches his jaw, rubs his hand against his leg as if to dry some sweat. He's looking at Gale as if he is afraid of something. For a second, I see something that seems a plea in his eyes. But a plea for what?

Gale is looking at him, too. Actually, no, he's studying him. He squints his eyes and slightly cocks his head to the left.

They stay like that for what seems like an eternity, silently exchanging who knows what kind of information.

Then Gale speaks. “I'm not completely certain that what you said is true, but I do agree on the last part. She can kick your ass on her own. Just be careful.”

The relief on Mellark's face is instantaneous. “Sure.” he says. He can finally breath easy, it seems.

Gale sighs. He moves his eyes from Mellark to me, then back at him. “You two...” He shakes his head and a small smile graces his lips. “Maybe now I should go back to my wife. I'll see you next time, Katniss. This time let's try not to fight.”

Uh? “Yeah...”

“Perhaps I'll see you again, Peeta Mellark.”

Now Mellark is the one smiling. “Who knows.”

And with that Gale leaves.

That's it. That's it?

Well, this was pretty... anticlimactic, wasn't it? I mean, I wasn't exactly expecting a Shakespearean tragedy but this resolution seems way to simple to me. But I'm afraid to ask Mellark if he thinks the same. I don't want to start a discussion that I don't know how will end.

But there is one thing that I am dying to know. “What was that between you and Gale?”

Mellark hums questioningly. Then tries to wave it off. “Oh, nothing. Don't worry.” After a second he adds, “I guess that we don't need to run home anymore. The mood is pretty much ruined.”

See, now, that is not fair. From the moment on the dance floor that I had decided to give in to my carnal desire for Mellark, I couldn't wait to have that nice fantasy of his fulfilled. I was really looking forward to it. Then Gale comes along, says some bullshit, and all our plans fall through.

I'll be damned if I'll let Gale Hawthorne ruin my night.

I grab Mellark's arm. “Only if we let it get ruined.”

He looks at me, surprised. Apparently, I keep surprising him today. He asks, “Really?”

I get close to him enough to push my breasts against his arm. I bite his earlobe gently. I hope that my voice is as sensuous as I intended it to be. “Really.” I whisper.

I don't have to say anything else. After looking around us to check if someone could see us, Peeta enters the cloakroom, pulls me in, and locks the door behind us.

This is gonna be a fun ride.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. I have a tumblr (littleevilisa), come tell me what you think! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! I'm on Tumblr (littleevilisa) :D


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